#and there are a million other things that's my fault it's not worth mentioning up

[mynameisbillandimaheadcase]

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[artists-ally]

{Train Wreck} Cassian!sister x Azriel AU {Pt. 1}

Man it feels good to be back with this series again. If you're wondering why the title feels familiar, you might have read this before. I decided I wanted to pick it back up again, but I needed to make a few changes. So, here is the revised version of Train Wreck!! Feel free to re-read, there are some new things here and there, so it's definitely worth it!! Anyway, enjoy my loves! Part 2 will be up soon!! Title and series inspired by this song!

Word Count: 8,587

Warnings: angst, language, traumatized characters (will come into play later in the series, you've been warned now), abandonment,

Tagging: @thelov3lybookworm @needylilgal022 @librafairy @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @sarawritestories @claireswritingcorner @dawneternal @ninthcircleofprythian @blessthepizzaman @lady-of-tearshed @pit-and-the-pen

Summary: After six years, this is the first time Ira and her brother Cassian have been in the same room. Under less than ideal circumstances, they're forced to meet again. Will Ira be able to forgive Cassian for the way he left things? Will she be able to trust the new friends she makes? Will she ever be able to open up to her brothers hot-shot best friend?

~~~~~

“He’s going to say no.” No response from the peanut gallery in the front seat. “Seriously, he’s not going to be okay with this. You might as well let me out of the car now.”

“Will you just be quiet?” Arthur snapped, eyes locking with mine from the rearview mirror. “Need I remind you that this is your fault. You’ve left us with no other option.”

“I told you, it wasn’t me. That was–” “Cal, I remember the story. And that’s all that it is. A story, a fabrication that Arthur and I are no longer going to be entangled in. You may be able to fool the police with that lie, but you can’t fool us, Ira,” Dana snapped, whirling around to shoot me some daggers. She couldn’t look intimidating if she tried; her face was like a bunny, and every time she frowned it just looked like she smelled something rotten.

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. There was no way he was going to take me. We hadn’t spoken in almost six years, I didn’t even know he was alive until three months ago when I heard about his engagement.

Fourteen years of growing up together meant nothing to him, I guess.

The big, riverside house came into view at the end of an equally impressive driveway. A shame for whoever had to go and collect the mail every morning. 

“Stay here, in the car,” Arthur barked. 

I opened the door and got out of the car, kicking a few stones. Man this place was flashy; a big fountain in the circular driveway, a line of cars over by a garage. Not to mention the very obvious multi-million dollar mansion that never seemed to end.

“Lord, give me the strength to not strangle this child,” Arthur sighed, marching to the front door. I snickered, he was always so uptight.

“Not a child, Arthur,” I countered. “I’m fucking twenty years old.”

“Give it a rest, Ira. We’re trying to help you since you clearly don’t understand the basic human morals of being a functioning member of society,” Dana said, opening the trunk, catching a bag as it tumbled from the stack.

“Sorry that I don’t like to conform to the idealistic fantasy that is modern society.” 

Turns out it’s hard to get a job with a criminal record. ‘We can’t hire a liability’ this and ‘we won’t have delinquents running our business’ that. So, I had to get creative with my… places of employment. It had been a fantastic plan. Brilliant even. Just something simple to save a few bucks so I could move out of this god forsaken place. But it got fucked up. Bad. And ended up with me in handcuffs.

This was my punishment. Instead of serving six months in county jail, I’m instead being dumped at this doorstep. Just what I always wanted. Knowing if I ever go back to the shithole I called home I’ll be arrested with a warrant.

I’ll never go in on a deal with someone ever again. 

“Get your stuff,” Dana dropped a few things to the ground. 

I came around the side of the car and heard the door open, and that lovely voice of his ring through my head. 

Great. This is going to go fantastic.

“Arthur? W-What are you doing here?” he said, a hiccup to his voice. 

“Cassian, good to see you,” the old man grinned, extending his hand. I watched through the windows of the van, saw Cassian stare at Arthurs hand and do nothing with it. “We uhh… we have something for you.”

“I don’t understand. How’d you find me?”

I could hear the crunch of gravel and I knew what was about to happen. Any second now I was about to come face to face with the douchebag I was dreading. I won’t lie, some small, juvenile part of me wished for him to be happy to see me. But I know it’s not gonna happen. 

“Dana? What the fuck is going on? Why are you here? How did you-”

“She’s not the surprise, Cass,” Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and walked to the back of the car. I didn’t miss the way he shuddered. 

There was a sharp yank on my elbow and I was pulled from the safety of my hiding spot. I jerked away from his grip, fixing the sleeve on my favorite jacket. Then I looked up. Fuck he’s…

“Ira…” He blinked several times, as if he could ever mistake me for someone else. Then I watched the color drain from his face. “It’s uhh… it’s been a while.” “Don’t give me that shit,” I couldn’t be bothered to be pleasant. Nothing about this would be fucking pleasant.

Cassian looked from Arthur to Dana, then back to me. And to the duffle bag that I was holding on to. I could see him connecting the dots inside his thick-ass skull. “No. No no no–”

“Cassian, she needs someone to look after her,” Dana expressed, chasing after him when he turned around. 

“You cannot just plop her on my doorstep like some stray dog,” Cass shouted, throwing his arms in the air and all around.

“She’s your sister, for fucks sake,” Arthur joined. “She needs you to look after her. Since you left, Ira has done nothing but cause me headaches and gray hairs.”

“I’m right here, you know,” I walked over, throwing the bag down. “And I’d appreciate if you talked about me like a fucking human being, not some gag gift that is always shuffled around Christmas because no one wants it.”

“This is fucking ridiculus. I cannot take you in, Ira. I have too much going on.”

“Some things never change,” I huffed. “See, I told you he wouldn’t give me the time of day. You’re still the same selfish, self-centered asshole you’ve always been.”

“Don’t talk like that to your goddamn brother,” Arthor yelled, spit flying onto my cheek. It took every ounce of self restraint to not rip his fucking throat out. Do not stoop to his level, Ira. Calm the fuck down.

“Cass? What’s going on?” Someone called

Cassian scrunched his face, and my eyes went to the door. A pretty woman was standing there with her arms folded. She had a scowl on her face and narrow eyes. Her long brown hair was braided over her shoulder. 

He heaved a sigh, rubbing his eyes. “Nothing, these people were just leaving.”

“Who’s here?” Another voice, a man, asked next. He was tall, had black hair and really deep blue eyes. They actually looked violet in the light. He was just as tall as Cassian when he came next to his side. The woman, with the most terrifying gaze I’ve ever seen, stood on his other side. 

Cassian muttered something under his breath and rubbed his forehead. “This is Arthur and Dana. My foster parents from years ago. And this… this is my sister.”

“Your sister?” Both of them exclaimed at the same time. 

He didn’t even tell them about me… 

I stand there, shocked to my core. God I knew he was an asshole, but he never once mentioned me? What a fucking–

“They were just–” “Come in come in,” the man stepped down and shook Arthur's hand. “I am Rhysand, call me Rhys. Welcome, we are so pleased to have you. Cassian never mentioned having visitors today.”

“It wasn’t planned,” Dana let out the fakest laugh I’ve ever heard. She was one of those people who, when nervous, laughed after every sentence. I’ve come to despise the sound. 

“No, Rhys,” Cassian shook his head. “They are not welcome. Take your fucking shit, take your goddamn bags, and go. You’re not allowed back here.”

At least that’s something we could both agree on. Neither side of this party wanted to be here. The feeling was mutual. 

“Welp, you heard the man,” I clapped my hands together. “Sorry to disrupt your whole life, to remind you that I still exist but we’ll go now. We all know that you don’t want the responsibility anyway. You didn’t want it six years ago, so why would that change today?”

“You know goddamn well that if I had a choice I would’ve–”

“Okay, okay can we cool it a couple degrees here? Someone better start explaining what is going on,” the man, Rhys, said. He put an arm between Cassian and I. I wasn’t sure when I got in his face, but he might want to remove the barrier before it gets ripped off. 

There were a couple too many silent heart beats, but both of us backed down. Cassian glanced at Arthur and Dana, taking a deep breath. I watched his chest rise and fall. 

In for four, out for four. In for five, out for five…

A lump rose in my throat. 

I could practically hear the conversation between Cassian and Rhys. This silent exchange of glances and body language I’m sure I’d never understand. But then Cassian backed down. Literally, he took a step back, hands on his hips.

“Would you guys like to stay for dinner?” Rhys asked Arthur and Dana.

Dinner? Dinner? Oh fuuuuck no. The four of us haven’t been in a room together for six years, and this crackhead just asked if we wanted to have dinner?

“We would be delighted,” Dana accepted, shooting me a look from head to toe. “Since it’s still midday, would you mind showing us around the property? It looks gorgeous.”

“Certainly,” Rhys says, offering his elbow. Dana latches on like a lost duckling, Arthur trailing after her. 

And then there were two. 

I looked up at the clouds, finding no discernible shapes amongst them. Welp. Here fucking goes nothing. 

“Lovely weather we’re having.”

“Do not,” he pointed at me. “You are not staying here, whenever this little tour is over, you’re gone with them.”

“Gladly.” 

“How the fuck did you guys find me anyway?” His eyes were full of rage. Full of hate. Full of resentment.

“It's amazing the things you can find with twenty bucks and a library computer.”

“You hacked into a library system and stalked me?” Cassian was dumbfounded.

I just smirked. “It wasn’t that hard, don’t give yourself too much credit. Kinda hard to hide somewhere when your face is plastered all over your website. ‘Velaris Hotel and Casino’ has a catchy ring to it, come up with it yourself?”

“I swear to god if I ever see you set foot in my hotel or my casino you’re gonna regret it. I cannot believe you hunted me down.”

“And I cannot believe you abandoned me,” I screamed. Years and years of pent up aggression. Years and years of shower thoughts and late nights wondering what I’d say to him when this moment came. And every single thing I’ve thought of has flown out the fucking window. 

Cassian had the gull to roll his eyes. I almost smacked him across the face. 

“Yo, are you coming inside or what?” A third voice sounded. God, how many people live in this fucking house?

A petite, blonde girl was in the doorway, her eyes bouncing between us. 

“Well? You gonna invite me in or is that privilege only reserved for Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb?” I asked, rocking back and forth on my heels. 

He looked me head to toe, and I got that same feeling as when Dana did it. Just raw disgust. 

“Break anything and I’ll murder you.”

“I’m thinking you’re gonna murder me regardless but eye-eye-captain,” I nodded, following behind his solid frame. 

The house was absolutely massive. I thought shit like this only existed in movies, not… wherever the fuck we were. Certainly not my normal run-down streets I was used to, and certainly not somewhere I ever thought Cassian was going to end up. 

There were cabinets filled with fine dishes and a chandelier hanging in the front entrance. There was a massive living room with the biggest TV and couch I’ve ever seen. Same with the kitchen and the dining room, which was being prepped by maids. Legit, actual maids. For fucks sake could this get any stranger?

Cassian took a left and went up a set of stairs. Classic Cass, running away at any chance he gets. My phone buzzed in my pocket. 

Cal: your a piece of shit I hope you know that

Me: You’re* but it’s fine.

Cal: i cannot believe you fucking left me

Me: Whoops. Sorry bud, I couldn’t stick around. You dicked me over so… guess that karma’s a bitch.

Cal: you know im bad with names

Me: WE USED EACH OTHERS MOTHER FUCKER. HOW HARD CAN IT BE TO FORGET MY NAME

Cal: hopefully pretty fucking easy because i don’t ever want to fucking see you ever again fuck you ira

Me: Right back atcha, asshole.

The only person that I had remotely trusted was out of my life. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I’ve ever had someone to trust. There were plenty of things I never told Cal. Plenty of things I kept hidden for my own safety. It was a strictly need-to-know partnership. I always got a little weary when he started asking too many questions. 

And I learned pretty fucking quick you can’t trust your own blood either. 

Lesson learned. Always. Trust. Your. Gut. 

I trailed behind Dana and Arthur, always five steps behind, close enough to hear, but far enough to make an escape should I need to. 

“Oh, and this is my wife Feyre. My darling, this is Arthur, Dana, and Ira, Cassian’s foster parents and his sister,” Rhys spared me a glance and I scrunched my face. Had Cassian really never bothered to tell them about me?

“Wow,” she had a small smile on her pretty face. Why was everyone here so pretty? “You look just like him. You both have the same eyes. And the same hair.”

“Great, what I’ve always wanted to be. Cassian's clone.” I couldn’t stop the eye roll.

“Ira,” Dana hissed. “Some manners?”

“Thank you, your Royal Highness.”

Dana smacked her forehead, mumbling something about gray hairs and a headache again. I chuckled. I thought it was funny. Especially the curtsy. 

“They are staying for dinner, I’ll let them know to set a few extra plates,” Rhys said.

“Good, I wouldn’t mind getting to know some of Cassian’s family,” Feyre nodded, that small smile still on her lips. We had all meandered outside to look at their yard, at the fountain in the front of the house. 

To no one's surprise, there was a matching one in the back by the pool. 

We all went inside after seeing the yard, but Cassian lingered at the back of the pack. While Rhys took Dana and Arthur around to the kitchen, Cassian yanked me–why was everyone throwing me around?–into a room off to the side. 

“What the fuck did you do this time?” Off to a great start.

“Wow, Cassie-”

“Do not call me that.” 

He used to hate it when I called him Cassie. Especially around his friends because they would make fun of him for days after. 

“No hi, how are you? No ‘it's good to see that my sister is alive and doing well?’” “Clearly not well enough since they dragged you all the way out here.” Cassian’s eyes were full of fire. Looks like he still had that canyon of a line between his bushy-ass-eyebrows when he was upset. 

“You don’t know anything of what I’ve had to endure the last six fucking years without you.”

“What. Did. You. Do?”

I swallowed, I hated when he scolded me. “It wasn’t even that bad. They just gave me community service.” I lied out of my ass.

“Jesus Christ, Ira. What did they want to give you?” Cassian shouted for the whole house to hear. 

“Doesn’t matter, I got myself out of it. Like I always do, without your fucking help. I am capable of taking care of myself without you.”

“Yeah you seem to be doing a swell job,” Cassian looked me up and down, clearly judging my tangled hair and ripped up jeans that I’ve probably had since middle school. “I thought all of this was behind you, Ira. When I left you were-”

“Abandoned. You didn’t leave, you abandoned me.”

Cassian relaxed his shoulders. “You know if I could’ve taken you with me I would’ve.”

“No you wouldn’t have.” I was waiting for him to argue, to deny that fact. But he didn’t, and his haunting silence was enough of an answer. I scoffed, a hard, bitter noise. “You know I don’t blame you, no one would want to take a juvenile delinquent anywhere, especially somewhere like this place.”

“Ira-” “Save you’re fucking breath, Cass. You don’t have to pretend around me, you’ve never had to. Just play along with it for one night and I’ll be gone by the morning. Then I won’t have to be your liability to shoulder ever again.”

I didn’t wait around to see his response. Somewhere deep inside I was actually excited to see him. To meet the person my scrawny, gangly brother had turned into. Now he was… a man. Like a real man. I never thought I’d see him with long hair, but here we are.

He looked healthy. He looked happy. For fucks sake he was engaged. Albeit to the most terrifying looking woman I’ve ever seen, but they looked like they somehow worked.

I found Dana and Arthur with glasses of wine around a large table, two other women that I hadn’t met yet. 

“Ahh, this is her,” Rhys stood up, putting his hands on my shoulders. I immediately shrugged them off. “This is Ira, Cassian’s sister.”

“After all this time,” the pretty blonde woman spoke, looking at me from head to toe. “Who knew Cassian could keep you a secret.”

“You look just like him,” a girl who looked similarly to Feyre said, eyes wide. “I’m Elain. And that’s Morrigan.”

“Mor is fine, dear,” Mor smiled, coming over to me and Rhys. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?”

“Not really,” I grimace, but she linked her elbow with mine anyway, dragging me away. “I know that look. You’re overwhelmed. Follow me.”

I thought I was doing a good job at masking it. “You don’t know the fucking half of it.”

“I know Elain said this already, but fuck you look like Cassian,” she laughed, opening a room and revealing a giant bed with a balcony on the other side of some french doors. 

“It gets really fucking annoying,” I rolled my eyes. 

“Understood,” she nodded, not pushing it. “This is my room, you can go out on the balcony if you need some fresh air. Or the bathroom, whatever you want.”

This entire room was as big as the trailer I grew up in. I’ve never seen such a big bed, or a big closet. Jesus, she could have the entirety of Macy’s in there. 

She must’ve caught me staring at it cause she walked over and flipped on the light. “Wanna take a look?”

I snapped back to her, shaking my head. I shoved my hands in my pockets, digging my nails into my palms. Everything in here was so pristine, and I was so… not. I didn’t wanna step anywhere but the hardwood floor.

“I like your jacket, those are some really cool patches,” she smiled, taking a closer look. She reached out and touched one, the blue plaid square fraying at the edges. 

It was a cut out of Cassian’s flannel he left behind…

“Thanks,” I nodded, ignoring the lump in my throat. “I’ve spent a lot of time making them.”

“That's so cool, I have zero creative ability,” Mor sighed as she flopped back on the bed. 

“Neither do I, just something to pass the time, I guess?” I took my hands out of my pockets, digging some grime out from under my nails. 

I could feel her eyes on me. That tension. Knowing she’s about to say something. 

“Look, I know it’s not my place to ask, but–”

“Then don’t ask. Cause I’m not saying shit,” I said bluntly. “Sorry if that's rude but I don’t know you and you clearly don’t know me so… I don’t need the whole ‘I know what you’re going through’ speech. You don’t. No one does. Not even myself.”

Mor nodded, sitting up, propping her arms behind her back. “I’m a little pissed at Cassian too.”

My eyes snapped to hers. “Why?”

“Because he has never once mentioned you? I know some of where he came from, of bouncing around the foster system, about ‘siblings’ but… he never went into detail. I just assumed they were all other kids in the system, you know? If he would’ve mentioned something about you, trust me, we would have not waited this long to be introduced.”

That… makes me feel slightly better. 

“There's not much to know about me. I’m a fucking nuisance to basically everyone. Especially to Cassian, Arthur, and Dana apparently.”

“What the fuck is their problem?” Mor scoffs, folding her arms over her chest. 

“I don’t know. Well– of course I know, it’s me. I’m their fucking problem and they’re trying to get rid of me. I made a dumb fucking decision, but I already did my fucking time. I don’t want anything to do with Cassian so I’m not sure why they’re dragging him into this mess.” 

Mor just looked at me sorrowfully. Fuck, why did I say that? I don’t want her pity. I can’t pretend she cares about me. 

She got off the bed and stood in front of me. She was shorter than I was, but not by a whole lot. 

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. I know it’s fucking awful what they’re making you do, so I don’t blame you for wanting to hide. Help yourself to anything you need.”

And then she was gone. Blonde hair bobbing with her steps. 

This isn’t fucking happening. I’m not in some strange girls room, alone nonetheless, in a different city hundreds of miles away from my familiar streets. I was not about to be abandoned here by Arthur and Dana because they couldn’t stand to take care of me anymore. Not the first, not the second, but the third time I’ve been abandoned. 

Man this is some fucking bullshit. 

I just looked around, envying all of this. It was all hers. All this space, all these things. All these clothes and dresses and jewelry boxes… Why can’t I have these things?

I swallow my tears. I’m so fucking pathetic, why am I about to cry? This is so stupid. Everything about this is stupid. 

I head to the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face. 

A plan flickers to life in my brain. I know for a fact they’re going to sneak out and leave me and all my shit here. But, I’ll just leave in the middle of the night. Who the fuck is gonna stop me? No one. Who cares if I leave? Also no one. 

I won’t make the same mistake that Cassian did. When I disappear, no one will be able to find me.

I took a long look at myself in the mirror. My tired eyes, my tangled, ratty hair. But I could see it… the resemblance between him and I. The same eyes. Same nose. Same hair. I’ll never be able to unsee it now. 

Okay, Ira. just a few more hours and you're done. Done for good. You can change your name and move to Puerto Rico or something. Paris. Wherever you want to go. Well, you don’t know how to speak Spanish or French, which might be important but… that's why they have translating apps, right? You’ll be fine. You always are.

When I got back downstairs, there was a light chatter in the air. But it stopped the second I walked in the room. 

My hood was quick to go over my head. No one spoke as I sat down and poured some water from the pitcher into my glass. 

Thankfully conversation between Rhys, Feyre, and Dana resumed and the silence wasn’t eating me alive. I took out my phone and scrolled through instagram, posting a picture of a lake I had taken on the drive up here. Just like all the other posts, it wouldn’t get any likes. 

“How do all of you know each other?” Arthur asked. 

“Well I met Cassian when we were in high school, as well as our other friend Azriel,” Rhys started. “We made a deal with each other that when we graduate, we would do everything in our power to become the most powerful business owners we could. As you can see, that little pact is working quite well.” “How long have you lived here?” Dana asked next, clearly eyeing up Rhys. 

“For about three years now?” Mor answered, Rhys nodded. “We kind of all found each other on the same paths and stuck together. We sort of own and share everything around here.”

“That is lovely,” Dana smiled. “And what do you do?”

“I own a casino and a neighboring hotel,” Rhys smiled. The moment I had learned about this hotel and casino, alarm bells rang in my ears. The devil's playground, and it was calling my name. Maybe I’d hit up for a few poker hands. “Cassian runs the whole thing, and Azriel kind of has his own thing.”

“Who’s Azriel?” Arthur unfolded the napkin and laid it across his lap. 

“He is our other friend,” Cassian butted in, lips pressed in that line that I remembered. “He’ll be by later.”

“Great,” I rolled my eyes. “More people.”

“Will you please be polite for once in your life?” Dana whisper-yelled, clearly not being discrete enough since everyone looked at us. 

I just shut my mouth, grinding my teeth. It’s not worth it, it's not worth it, I told myself. A few moments later, a large tray with some type of bird on it came out. It was too big to be a chicken, but too small to be a turkey? Duck maybe? I don’t know, it didn’t matter. It was food. 

Everyone around me took their time while I ate like a heathen. Putting a little bit of everything on my plate and scarfing it down like someone was going to take it away from me. Guess I’m taking on the stray dog title pretty well. 

“So, Ira. What do you like to do?” Mor asked me. 

I don't know what part of my hood being pulled over my head gave off ‘I want to be a part of this conversation’, but here we go I guess. 

“I have many hobbies.” I could see Cassian’s eyes narrow from across the table. 

“Like?” Rhys stuck a green bean in his mouth.

“Uhh, f-fashion. And I’m very good at handling money. Other people's money. As well as picking locks and hotwiring cars-”

“She’s joking,” Cassian gave the fakest laugh– besides Dana’s– that I’ve ever heard. “We used to play cops and robbers when we were little, she always wanted to be the robber.”

“Did I?”

“Yes,” he practically growled. “You did.”

This was crazy. This was actually crazy to be doing this right now. If I had any particular feeling about the things I did, guilty and ashamed were not some of them. Who gave a fuck if I stole from Walmart or faked being a waitress to make a few extra bucks? If anything they should be thanking me for the extra set of hands. Which they didn’t have to pay for. 

It wasn’t like I stole the Mona Lisa for fucks sake. 

“I guess I did.” 

“What was Cassian like growing up? I can only imagine some of the stories you have,” Nesta chimed in from next to Cassian.

“I have a few. One time, Cassian was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich-”

“Do not-”

“And he thought that the peanut butter was in the fridge for some reason. Turns out he grabbed a bottle of dijon mustard and used that instead. He took one bite and threw up everywhere. It took Dana a week to get the smell out of the kitchen.”

Everyone grimaced, poking fun at Cassian for making a jelly-mustard sandwich. “I guess that explains the nausea every time I make one.”

“You still can’t stomach even the smell?” My eyes were a little wide. That had to have been from when we were still in elementary school.

“Nope,” Cassian’s tone was harsh, fork forceful as it went into his mouth. 

“What is everyone laughing about?” A new voice said from over my shoulder. When I turned to look… holy mother of Jesus fucking–

“Azriel,” Rhys, still in a fit of laughter. “Listen to this: Ira, Cassian’s sister, told us why he runs for the hills every time he sees peanut butter.”

“S-Sister?” 

I could not have ignored the exchange between Cass and Azriel if I tried. Those alarm bells from earlier? They were deafening now. Much like Cassian and Rhys earlier, their eyes and body gestures were like a language in and of itself. Impossible to understand, but something was said. 

“Azriel, this is my sister. Ira,” Cassian gestured to me without looking. “This is Azriel. And my foster parents, Arthur and Dana.”

I held Azriel’s gaze for a second. I couldn’t quite figure out what his problem was, but he better not have one with me. I challenged his gaze, but he refused to back down. 

Azriel gave a not-so-subtle look at me, but didn’t say anything as he moved to sit with us. A sharp kick to my shin had me wincing. When I looked up, Cassian met my heated gaze. 

Don’t even think about it, he mouthed, glare set so deep in his eyes I wasn't sure his eye lids would peel off his face. 

One raise of my eyebrow told him I was up for the challenge. I could see his jaw clench, and that only made me want to push his buttons. 

I managed to break my vice hold on Cassian and look at Azriel from across the table. He had these lighter colored eyes, hazel I think. And a dark mess of hair. He wore a fitted black athletic tee, and black sweats with a Nike swoosh on the hip. I think I stared a little too long, cause when I looked back up at his face, he sent me a wink. 

I damn near gagged. He wishes. 

“And you’re engaged? That’s wonderful, Cassian. I am so happy for you,” Dana gushed while looking at Nesta’s ring. “Congratulations, you two. Do you have a date picked out?”

“No,” Nesta said sternly. “We are just going to wait things out. Until both of us feel ready.”

Cassian nodded, not offering up any words. 

“What would you guys like for dessert?” Rhys asked, listing off a few options. I stopped paying attention after chocolate cake because who would want to hear anything else?

“I’m afraid we better get on the road, it is a long drive back to our home. Thank you for dinner, it was delicious,” Arthur stood up from the table, shaking Rhys’s hand. “Cassian, a word, please?”

With a deep breath, Cassian stood up and followed the old man out of the room. 

“Okay, now that he’s gone, can we all agree that there is something wrong with him? I’ve never seen him so… so rigid in my life,” Mor blew out air from her lips, shaking her head. 

I offered a tad bit of insight. “Dana and Arthur are kind of fed up with me so they’re just gonna take off. And leave me here. But don’t worry, I’m just gonna find a bus stop in the morning and be gone before any of you wake up. No biggie.”

The room was silent except for my fork scratching on the plate. When I looked up, everyone was looking at me funny.

“Ira, what? They’re gonna leave you here?” Mor gasped.

“It is a long story. And they think I need a role model to get my life together. Why Cassian is that role model I’ll never understand because the last I knew of him he was just as irresponsible as I was.”

Rhys took a sip of wine, “How long has it been since you’ve seen each other?”

“Six years. But I mean you all probably know him better than I ever did so, might wanna ask that prick why he abandoned me.” I took a big piece of this chocolate cake into my mouth. “Fuck, this is good.”

“What happened?” Feyre prodded.

“We are lightyears away from you being able to ask that,” I laughed. “No offense but, it’s none of your fucking business.”

Again, the room was silent, except for a small snort at the end of the table. It wasn’t Elain because she was so red she looked like she was gonna pass out. And the only other one was Azriel. 

“Hint taken,” Rhys pressed his lips in a flat line. “Well, you are Cassian’s family, so you are always welcome in our home.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to be. I’ll figure it out, I always have. It’ll be like I was never here,” I took another forkful and shoved it in. Damn, I was gonna miss this cake. “So, Rhys, you own a casino and a hotel. What do the rest of you do?”

I’ll pretend like I care for my own amusement.  

“Well, Cassian runs the casino and hotel,” Rhys pointed out again. “Azriel owns and runs the adjacent club. We basically have our own empire here.”

“Sounds riveting,” I rolled my eyes. “What about you Mor.”

“I am the best fucking bartender this place has seen,” she grinned. “And I model here and there.” “Wonderful.” So she’s a princess. Got it. 

“I have an art studio. I teach classes and do some workshops,” Feyre said. “But most of the time I am at home with our son Nyx. He is… he’s a handful. A spoiled handful.”

“Hey,” Mor said, “to be fair, he is the first kid in our group, what did you expect?”

“He’s barely two, he doesn’t need designer clothes that he won’t fit into after a few months anyway. It's a waste of money.”

“Feyre, darling, I don’t know if you’ve looked around, but we kind of have a lot of money. It could use some wasting,” Rhys patted her thigh under the table. 

I can only hope to have enough financial security to be able to say sentences like that. They could probably retire right now, all of them, and never make a dent in their fortune. Lucky bastards. 

“What is it that you do, Ira?” Azriel poked his head from around Mor. 

“Oh,” I sputtered. What the hell was I supposed to say? Certainly the fact that I commit petty crimes won’t go over well. “I’ve had a lot of jobs. I don’t have a set career yet.”

“So hot-wiring cars is just a hobby then?” 

A stream of water shot out of Mor’s mouth and onto the table. How did he even hear that?

“It’s a skill. Don’t come crying to me when your battery dies and you don’t wanna pay a hundred and fifty dollars for AAA to come and pick up your ass,” I deflected. Another skill I had built up over the years. 

“And the locks?” Wow, he was kind of an asshole with supersonic hearing. I could see why he and Cassian hung around together. 

“I was a locksmith,” I mustered up my best smile and scooted my chair so I was sitting at an angle.

“Ah, so it wasn’t just the ‘cops and robbers’ you and Cassie used to play growing up. Good to know,” Azriel wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. He stood up, saying something about having to leave because he had to open up. 

Just as he was walking by, I stuck my toe into the walkway and he tripped over me. Azriel all but went through the wall, Cassian coming around at the last second and catching his arm. 

“You alright?” He asked as Azriel straightened himself out. 

“Yup. Fine.” The glare he gave me sent a smirk curling at my lips. Two can play that game, mother fucker. 

I, very gracefully, scratched the corner of my nose with my middle finger. He got the message. But so did Cassian.

“Your stuff is in the driveway. Go get it and meet me upstairs.” Cassian looked so pissed off. His shoulders were pinned to his ears again as he stalked away, that silence settling back in the room. 

“Guess that’s my cue to get a move on. Thank you everyone, a pleasure to meet you all,” I said with a genuine tone. They were all cool.  

The three duffle bags and backpack were not light as I carried them up the stairs, trying not to knock over all the decorations and pictures on the wall. One of them didn’t survive. It crashed all the way down and shattered on the hardwood floor. Cassian cursed from somewhere. 

With a thud, I let go of all the bags in some random room at the end of the hall. It was barely big enough to call a hobbit hole. There wasn’t a window or a real bed, just some cot with a pillow and a blanket. “Glamourous.”

“It’s the best that I could do,” Cassian all but rolled his eyes. 

“A couch would’ve been better,” I plopped down on the taught fabric, bouncing a little. “Sorry about the frame.” “It’s fine,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, Ira I’m sorry about how I left you.” “Yeah well apologies don’t mean a fucking thing to me unless you fix it, Cassian,” I folded my arms over my chest. “And for the record, I would’ve understood if you would’ve just fucking told me what was going on. Instead, not only did you not tell me, you ghosted me.” I just blinked up at him, waiting for an explanation. “Well?”

Nothing. Not even a strangled breath. “I just had to.”

“That’s the best you can do? Are you seriously still that fucking thick in the head?” “I didn’t have a choice, Ira,” he shouted. 

“Yes,” I nodded. “You absolutely had a choice. You could’ve at least left me a fucking note with a number on it so I could talk to you. You were all I had, Cass. All I fucking had and you just disappeared. What did you expect me to do?”

Cassian shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I-I don’t know. I thought you’d get yourself together and make it out too. Build your own empire, like the one we have here.”

“In case you forgot, I didn’t get to finish school like you did.”

“Well that’s not my fault.”

The fucking nerve. I stood up, barely coming to his chest, and smacked him across the face. His head jerked to the side, and his mouth fell open. I shoved him into the wall on the other side of the hallway and he fell into it. 

“You are a piece of fucking shit Cassian.”

“Ira–” “Did you really think that I would end up alright without you there? Could you really be that fucking stupid?”

“I didn’t think that–”

“Of course you didn’t. You never have. You’ve only ever thought about yourself and what would benefit you. You never gave a shit about me, I was just a burden you couldn’t get rid of.” “That’s not true,” he gritted his teeth. 

“Tell me that I am not a constant reminder of dad. Or mom. Tell me.” I waited for a response. When nothing came, I felt the nausea roll through my body. “You are one sorry son of a bitch Cassian.”

“Jesus Ira you think I wanted to abandon you?” “You haven’t given me one other reason to believe anything different,” I was screaming now. I didn’t care if anyone else heard. “The last memory I have of you is seeing you packing a fucking bag and climbing out your window, what else am I supposed to believe about you?”

A door clicked open, and Azriel emerged. He looked at us with raised eyebrows. “Everything alright?” 

No, you fucking prick. 

“Just re-kindling our sibling rivalry,” I gave a mocking look, staring down Azriel. “Mind your own damn business. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Ira,” Cassian said, somewhat appalled. 

“Just fuck off, Cassian,” I waved my hand at him. “Like I said, I’ll be gone in the morning and you don’t ever have to worry about making it up to me again because you won’t be able to. Hope you are happy living in your perfect little bubble with your perfectly little circle. Hope they’re all more important to you than I ever was.”

I slammed the door shut quicker than he could get a response out, leaning against it. I hadn’t ever realized that I was shaking.

Whatever. Fuck him too. I don’t need Cassian. I haven’t needed him for the past six years. God, has it really been that long?

There was no use in unpacking so I just piled the bags in the corner of the room. And there was also nothing to do besides lay down simply because there wasn’t enough room to do anything else. 

Maybe when everyone has gone to sleep, or home, I’ll go sneak around. Take something just to piss him off. Nothing too valuable, but something really inconvenient like all the salt and pepper shakers or all the spoons. 

Or one of the Corvettes in the driveway.

My mind was racing with thoughts, but eventually I had fallen asleep because the sun was peeking through the crack under my door. I stirred and sat up, sighing loudly. 

I changed into a hoodie and some other jeans, slipping my jacket on knowing it'll be chilly. 

With far more precision, I made it downstairs to the front door. It unlocked easily, thankfully no alarm system went off. The crisp morning greeted me and I slipped out silently. 

Fuck, this driveway was long. Couldn’t they be normal and have a normal fucking sized driveway? It was so unnecessary. 

And of course there was nothing at the end of it. Just the road and nothing else. Not another house or anything. Who knows how far it could be until a bus station. Hopefully this place wasn’t filled with a bunch of weirdos and I wouldn’t get kidnapped. 

The thought of carrying all these bags for miles would tear up my back and shoulders. I didn’t have that much but… I needed all of it. 

“Ira!”

I whirled around and saw a Cassian shaped silhouette coming down the driveway. Oh great. 

“Come to demand I pay for the broken frame?” “Stay.”

What? “What?”

Cassian breathed heavily, “Stay. I-I am so sorry for what I said. And you’re right, I don’t ever think of anyone other than myself. And I’m sorry I never told you where I was going. I want to fix it, but I can’t if you don’t at least let me try.”

I dropped the bags, totally not believing what I was hearing. “And what if I don’t give a flying fuck if you want to or not?”

Cassian completely deflated. “Please, Ira. I made a promise to mom and dad that I would look after you. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I don’t feel like a piece of shit for what I did. I miss you.”

So what if he made a promise to mom and dad? He made a promise to me. To always stick together. To always be there. He hung me out to dry before I even had a chance to notice. His apology means nothing. His desperation means nothing. 

I fucking hated Cassian. More than anything right now I wanted to watch him be boiled alive. Could he really even help me anyway? What was the fucking point of any of this? I was already humiliated, and dragging innocent people into my bullshit surely didn’t help. 

I sucked in a big breath, hiking my bag up on my shoulder, ready to bolt. “Why should I?”

“Because what other option do you realistically have?” 

“That is not fair,” I flare my nostrils. “You have no right to waltz back into my life and pretend you give a shit about me.”

“You were the one who was dropped on my doorstep,” Cassian pointed out, making my stomach drop. 

“You know, you’re doing a shit job at showing that you legitimately want me to stay, asshole.” I was getting a little angry. Good things did not happen when I felt betrayed. “And for the record, I tried to talk them out of bringing me here, but they went around me and got a fucking court order. So, whether you want to believe it or not, it was not my choice to be here. I can’t even go back with Dana and Arthur because there will be a warrant out for my arrest.”

“Shit…” Cassian dragged a hand over his face. “Ira I’m-”

“Sorry? I know. But you lost the privilege of my forgiveness long ago. It is gonna take a hell of a lot more than ‘I’m sorry’ to fix what you’ve done to me.”

“I know, I know,” Cassian softened his eyes and his voice, standing tall in front of me. “Just… give me something. Anything, and I will never betray you ever again.”

Should I believe him? I have no fucking idea what to do. All my senses are telling me to run and don’t look back, but that gaping pit in my stomach that formed when he left seems a little less… gaping.  

This was gonna be a rough fucking time. Nothing about this is going to be easy, but… he was right. I didn’t have another option. Prison, if I really was desperate, but I didn’t quite feel like losing all my basic human rights.

If he wanted me to stay, there were going to have to be some sacrifices on his end.

Maybe a little room for petty behavior. 

“I want a real fucking room.” I demanded

“Any one in the house.”

“I want yours.”

“Absolutely not,” Cassian furrowed his brow. “Plus, I don’t even live here anymore. Just Rhys, Feyre and Nyx. Nesta, Azriel and I live in the next town.”

“So what, you all just visit together and pretend to be a big happy family?” I scoffed, kicking a stone. 

“We don’t pretend, Ira,” he didn’t say it rudely, but more matter of fact-ly. And he looked at me like I had never known what a family was. I guess he forgot that when he left it kind of ruined me. Or again maybe he just didn’t care what it would do to me back then. 

Cassian looked sad. Not depressed or upset, just sad. 

“Your room or I’m gonna walk away right now.” There was no room for negotiating in my voice. I could see the conflict in his eyes, but with a sigh he gave in. 

“Fine, you can have my room,” Cassian rolled his eyes dramatically. 

“Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Actually it was. I spent weeks designing that room. All for it to go to fucking waste.”

“Sucks to suck I guess,” I smirked, shouldering two of my bags. I took a long, non-rage-filled look at my brother. Man… he looked so different. Six years is a long time to not see someone. 

I gotta make this work. “I’m gonna work hard, you know. I’m tired of always being in the fucking mud.”

“Yup. Me too.” Nice, asshole. “You’re going to have to follow some rules and check in. This isn’t going to be a free-for-all, you’re gonna have a curfew.”

“A curfew? What am I, thirteen?”

“Until you can prove to me that you’re not gonna go and rob a bank, yes, you’ll have a curfew,” Cassian picked up my other bags and started walking back to the house. “We’re gonna find you a job because I will not be funding your operation.”

“What happened to ‘we have a lot of money. It could use some wasting’?”

“Rhys wasn’t wrong,” Cassian said. “But just because we have it doesn’t mean you get access to it.”

“Jeez, sorry I brought it up, grumpy pants. And what kind of rules anyway?”

“We’ll talk about it later. Some of us like to get a full eight hours of sleep every day so I am going back to bed. You’re not allowed to leave the house until I say so, so find something to do.”

“Or someone,” I whispered to myself. But Cassian heard. “A joke.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you eye fucking Azriel,” Cassian practically gagged. “That is one of your rules. You are not allowed to be engaged with him in any type of way. The last thing he needs right now is you.”

“Right to the heart. And please, I could do better.” That part was debatable for sure. 

“I mean it, he’s been through a lot the past year and a half. It took him a long time to get to where he is and I won’t let you ruin it for him,” Cassian said possessively. “He, along with everyone else, is my family. Fuck with them and you’re dealing with me.” “News flash, buddy, so am I. We share the same DNA, and hair and eyes according to everyone else on the fucking planet.”

“Ira, I’m serious. If you fuck around with Azriel and I find out I sweat to–”

“Jesus, calm down Vengeance. Gotham is safe from the Joker,” I followed him inside, clicking the door shut behind me. “I won’t get involved with Azriel.”

“Good.”

He carried the bags to his car, telling me we’d make it to his house sometime in the afternoon. After that? I just… wandered. I looked in the kitchen, grabbing an orange and a few granola bars from the pantry. I slipped out the back door to the pool and sat on one of the lounge chairs. 

The sunrise was full of oranges and golds. Much different from the other sunrises I’m used to up on the roof. The soft wind blew the water in the pool, making gentle lapping noises. I closed my eyes. Stretched my legs. 

I’ve gotta be careful or I might get used to this. 

I know the ending of this book. Read these pages, seen the titles. It’s gonna be no fucking different. I’ll give it the good ol’ college try, but it’s never gonna fucking work. I’ll do something stupid, piss off the wrong person and Cassian will kick me to the curb. Just a waiting game. 

Nothing I can do about it, so I might as well see where fate takes me.

[elfieafterdark]

I'm trying a thing, we getting a happy ending and here's why.

Preamble

Okay, @locked-in-the-tomb has me thinking about this. So let me outline why as a writer, I believe we're getting a griddlehark ending.

Firstly, credentials. I have written over a million words, 70+ works worth of fan fiction over the last 2 and 1/2 to 3 years. Including some that got pretty popular. However I will admit that I am not classically trained, I have a computer science degree not an English degree so bear with my horrible layman way of describing these things.

Lastly, I could just be full of shit. This could just be a whole bunch of cope. Because by the tomb I am coping so hard for a satisfying ending.

Beginning

So let's talk about the ending of the locked tomb. And also the beginning. I find my best received works are the ones that don't trick people.

An example would be my fanfiction called There's No One Like You, it's the most popular one I've ever done, it is novel length, it's a combination of a high school drama with a mystery thriller.

And I very clearly telegraph what the mystery is in the very first chapter. I won't spoil it too much just in case someone wants to read it, but in the first chapter is a very clear hint of where the story is going.

It's classic setup, you set something up, you telegraphed that it has been set up, you let it hang there for a bit, and then you pay it off. That's how you create a satisfying element to a story.

Now I'm going to argue that the entirety of Gideon the Ninth is setup. The entire book is, at its core, about Gideon and Harrow coming to terms with how they really feel about each other. What is my proof for such a bold claim?

Well let me ask you a question, what did we all think when we realized that Harrow spent all the previous night burying bones just so Gideon couldn't escape? We all thought the same thing, who the fuck would do that? And, why the fuck would you do that? And then we all got it, ahh, these two are enemies to lovers. Gotcha.

And let me ask you another question about Gideon the Ninth. What is the one scene that sticks out to you the most? When you think of the book what's one of the first scenes that comes to mind?

The Pool Scene.

The pool scene is arguably the most important scene in the entirety of the book. It's the scene in which we get answers to most of this book's mysteries. Why did 200 children die in the 9th? Why didn't Gideon die? Why was Harrow so vicious to Gideon?

All of these questions are answered, The 200 children were murdered to create Harrow, Gideon didn't die because the nerve gas had no effect on her, Harrow was so vicious to Gideon because Gideon was a reminder of what Harrow is.

Notice how most of those mysteries have to do with Harrow and Gideon. Because whatever themes you can extract from the story,

I would argue that Gideon the Ninth is about their relationship. They both need to come to terms with the shitty lives they've had, and they need to come to terms with the fact that those shitty lives aren't their fault.

Gideon forgives Harrow, and all but explicitly declares her love for her. In that pool, and Harrow is so happy. It's the emotional crux of the story (heh)

And it's setup for the series

If you haven't noticed, this series is about two people. Everyone else is incidental to that story. The series is about Gideon and Harrow. It's about their relationship.

Gtn is about them actually coming to a mutual understanding and respect. The very instant the other is in danger all of the pretense is dropped and that goes both ways.

Htn is all about everybody and everything telling Harrow that she should give up and move on, and her resoundingly telling everyone to fuck off. It's about the sacrifice she made to save Gideon's soul.

Now I've only seen Harrow mentioned twice in Nona so far, and both of those times are her hanging out with who I suspect to be God? I don't know I don't want to analyze that too far. We haven't seen Gideon at all so I'm not going to talk too much about Nona.

But the pool scene very clearly sets up the endgame, and that end game is cemented by the letter Harrow writes to Gideon, knowing that Gideon survives being consumed.

One Flesh, One End. Aka, I love you. I've talked about how this phrase is really a declaration of endlessly devoted love before, but they come to terms with their relationship, they sleep in adjacent beds which is as close to sleeping in the same bed as you can literally get without doing it, and they fight like hell to save the other.

Subverting Expectations: the Devil's Writing Trick

It's a pretty compelling setup isn't it? Fate has cruelly ripped them apart, and neither of them is willing to accept that, to the point that Gideon willingly became a part of Harrow; not to mention the point that Harrow is willing to lobotomize herself to preserve Gideon's soul.

That's a big setup, with Gideon's death, we understand the emotional conflict for the rest of the series. A conflict that is only confirmed by literally every single page of Harrow the Ninth.

How are they gonna fix this and be together? Remove all the awesome world building, remove all the excellent supporting characters, remove all of the religious theming, carve away all of the gay shit; and I earnestly believe that's what you have left.

How are they going to fix this? How are they going to be together? These are the questions that keep us all coming back. These are the questions that have us chomping at the bit for Alecto.

Now imagine after all that setup, after all that telegraphing, imagine that the answer to this question was

"they don't fuck you."

Let me ask you all something? Is that a satisfying ending? Is pouring all of this effort into these characters who in turn pour all their efforts into saving each other worth it at all if they don't succeed in the end?

Now some people might say that there's a beauty in tragic endings. And there is. I just think most of the time they're cheap.

I think I speak for many people when I say we want a story where characters go through all sorts of Hell, get beat the fuck up, struggle mightily against impossible odds, and maybe they lose some stuff along the way; but then they triumph.

The setup in Gideon the Ninth, that is continued through Harrow and I suspect we'll also be present in Nona is that they're going to fight everything in order to be together.

And based on how Harrow blatantly refuses to look back at the end of Harrow? The obvious trajectory of those decisions and these character moments is that they're going to succeed.

They've come this far, they've defied death itself. I just can't see the books ending any other way. Any other ending is going to feel like muir is spitting in our faces.

You paid attention to all that foreshadowing? Go fuck yourself on an iron fence.

Like do you all see what I'm trying to say here? The setup is that they get together, and there better be a goddamn payoff otherwise I'm going to riot.

Anyway, I would apologize for the length of this but I had a lot of fun writing it. And that's all that really matters in the end.

Thanks y'all, more to come soon 💖

[myobsessionsspace]

This whole goddamn taekook vs jikook 💿🐎 is so exhausting. Honestly.

Was I a bit saddened when Jeongguk didn't mention Jimin? Yeah. But for the wrong reasons because my brain was hard wired into thinking "taekookers are gonna run a mile with it".

It's fucked up. But more importantly, it's not Jeongguk's fault - it's purely a me/army problem.

The fact that everyone in army has some kind of version of the members that's mostly fabricated, isn't something they can control.

They are most likely aware of all the hate they get online, especially if it gets really bad. That it gets really bad for Jimin a whole lot, from within army even, can't be unknown to them. But it's not on Jeongguk to change himself on the off-chance it's gonna reduce hate. Most likely that wouldn't work either. Tkkers, akgaes and Solos will hate on BTS every chance they get.

BTS are whole people, individuals that think differently and experience things differently. To reduce them down to their interactions with others is insanely harmful, but it has been normalised. From what I've seen, a lot of shippers (both taekookers and jikookers) reduce the maknae line to what they do and with whom. I did it too, when I immediately thought sadly about the letter when it's the first proper sign of life we've gotten from our golden maknae in ages.

So, as much as I'm f.e. looking forward to the travel show, I'd also advise shippers in particular to watch actual uncut ot7 content. ITS, BV, concerts and behind the scenes - there's a decade worth of videos. Yes, everyone believes in hybe having a narrative to push, so I don't expect people to actually do this honestly, but it might decode some of the army-internal brainwashing.

Hi lovely,

First of allllll

I’m here for what you are throwing down!

It’s not a THEM (the members) problem it’s an US problem.

How does it make sense that ‘fans’ be it solos, shippers, whatever, get mad when people we’ve never met talk about a member who they’ve ate, slept, breathed, played and worked with for 10+ years? How does it make sense to be angry over them interacting, touching, mentioning each other because of what the shippers will say? You damn right it’s exhausting😪.

⬆️An example 😓 They literally had phones in their faces from all sides and so many think pieces about their interactions VS ⬇️

I can’t point the finger without three pointing back at me, cos like you said I too have had moments when I’m like ‘those mf’s are gonna have a field day with this…’ as my first thought?! What’s wrong with me??? I get it when real OT7 say shippers & solos (when talking about those that actually are and not the ones they like to label to dismiss valid thoughts) ruin everything, cos as soon as content and good news drops there’s always gotta be some bullshit alongside it, from any subsection 😪

They HAVE to be aware but kudos to them, they keep it moving, they’re so strong to have millions of strangers on multiple platforms speaking on them like they know them, but still have so much love in their hearts to continue engaging because they know the some isn’t the all.

With every drama and battle online it actually deepens my love and awe of these regular guys, with talent hard worked for, still trying hard to show their goodness to their supporters, not throwing in the towel for their peace. They’re everything 😍

I’m glad people like you are making it your mission to not reduce them to their duos, ships and solo fandoms, but still supporting them as TALENTED INDIVIDUALS. I’m trying too💪. I want to be conscious in appreciating them for them, their talents, their individuality AND their bonds, ALL OF THEIR BONDS.

Obviously I bias some bonds more than others, it’s human nature🙈

We definitely need to keep pushing about original content, we need to keep pushing about original sources not just clips and cuts and edits, we definitely need to keep pushing about doing our googles!

We need to not close our eyes to the other interactions, it’s not scary! It helps us appreciate Jikook’s bond more and appreciate them as members, friends & brothers of the others.

Because no matter what people believe those 7 MEN love each other down.

It helps us be able to filter the bullshit when we do come across misinformation and defamation of character. It helps our confidence in knowing we’re stanning and supporting the right ones.

I’m super geeked for the show coming from Jikook too…whenever it comes 😩 Heck we’re starved, so I’ll start small, I’m desperate for a ‘keep warm, don’t catch a cold’ message from Jiminie even though he’s doing his best in keeping in contact, why are we so thirsty 😅

Thank you for writing in and speaking my heart! 😉

💜

[topazadine]

personal vibes u can ignore

So I don't really discuss it much on here because no one cares but I've ... had a pretty intense life ngl. [TW for mentions of trauma I guess?]

I'm a CSA and childhood domestic abuse survivor, suffered from self-harm for a long time, had a psychotic episode at age 21, have been dealing with bipolar since age 15, attempted suicide six times, and don't remember half my life because of dissociative amnesia and C-PTSD.

There was a time when I didn't leave my house more than a handful of times for a whole year. I used to have such bad panic attacks that I would literally run out of classes. Sometimes I would wake myself up screaming.

But despite that, I really did achieve my lifelong dream: I became an author. I published 9 Years Yearning and have completed six manuscripts so far, including two 100k+ manuscripts.

A lot of the time, I just kind of move on from my achievements and don't really think much about them. I didn't attend either of my college graduations because I didn't care; the process was over and it was time to look for what was next. I've always been hungry for the next thing, or maybe it's due to low self-esteem.

I need to change that, though. I sell myself short quite a lot. Many people want to become authors, but most of them give up and fizzle out when they don't get immediate recognition, or they endlessly babble on about what they want to do instead of actually writing the damn thing. They come up with a million excuses and spend all their time dreaming up story ideas that they never put onto paper, and then they shit all over everyone who actually does it.

They're not willing to put themselves out there and be vulnerable, nor will they put in the hard work of writing, revising, formatting, getting a book cover, marketing, etc. It's scary to show people your heart in your work and to know that others won't appreciate the struggle, nor will they be kind because they have no reason to. That shit is tough. Not everyone can handle it.

My mom recently gave me a strange compliment that has been sticking with me a lot, and I think it might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. She said that she admires me because I keep going even though there may be no tangible reward for it: I have entirely intrinsic motivation.

I believe so strongly in my work that even though I know there may be no payoff whatsoever, I am still willing to put in the effort. There's no participation trophy, no guarantee that anyone will care; I'm not going to get an A+ in Writing from anyone now that I'm out of school.

This didn't even occur to me because I never imagined that other people didn't feel that way, that many need outside validation or they feel that their output isn't worth doing.

Maybe it's because I've been a ghostwriter for 8 years and an SEO writer for about 2 years, both of which are incredibly thankless occupations. I mean, someone literally puts their own byline on top of your own, and no one ever knows you wrote it.

I bust my ass all day finding statistics for the most random niche topics, and all it amounts to is a "Completed" note on an Excel spreadsheet and a confirmation that the client received it. (And money. That's the important thing.) That would probably demolish a lot of peoples' drive to work, but it doesn't bother me.

Whatever the reason I am like that, it is indeed an uncommon mindset. I do my best even if I get no positive feedback because it doesn't matter whether other people acknowledge me; I know I worked hard, and that's enough for me.

So ... I guess I'm just proud of myself. Proud of how much I have grown as a person and how I have overcome so many barriers to get here. I could have given up at any time and no one would have faulted me, but I didn't, and I'm still going, even when the odds are against me and it feels pointless.

That's really special. I'm honored to be the person I am today.

[uncloseted]

hi! i read one of your past posts and you mentioned that you think everyone is redeemable and i want to hear more thoughts on it, i feel like a lot of beliefs like Karma and Hell really push the idea that once someone does a bad thing or is a bad person, they deserve to suffer the consequences of those actions forever bc they are a bad person forever, what are your thoughts? does it relate to your views on the law and prisons? what about people who are not remorseful or love to hurt others?

I really love this question so thank you for asking it! The first thing I should say here is that I grew up Eastern Orthodox Christian, which isn't really a tradition that has hell or karma as part of their theology. I'm sure over the years, Orthodox churches have adopted the fire-and-brimstone version of hell, but the way I was raised viewed hell as a spiritual separation from God as opposed to a literally place where your body is tortured. I think this may be an extension of the Jewish concept of Gehinnom, where a person has deviated so far from the will of God that they're emotionally tortured by intense shame, but I don't know that for sure. I'm not active in the church or anything anymore, but I think the fact that I didn't grow up in a "your actions on earth will doom you for all eternity" faith tradition is probably part of the reason that I think redemption is possible and that a belief in redemption is necessary. I think it's also worth noting that in a lot of Christian theology, it's not actually your actions that send you to hell- it's not accepting Jesus Christ as your savior. In a lot of Christian traditions, you can be a serial killer as long as you repent and accept Jesus on your deathbed, and people like the Dalai Lama will be sent to hell by virtue of the fact that they're not Christians.

For a long time now, my view has been that there are no inherently "bad people" in the world. Our genes, epigenetics, womb environment, unbringing, experiences, cultural context, socioeconomic status and a million other things all come together to inform all of the decisions we make from one moment to the next. And because of that, I just don't think it's fair to treat people as lost causes. Some people get dealt a really difficult hand and deal with it the only ways that they know how, but that doesn't mean they can't improve with the right kind of support. It's like that quote from The Good Place - "people improve when they get external love and support. How can we hold it against them when they don't?" I believe nobody is beyond rehabilitation because what's the alternative? That we just accept that some people are just born evil and deserve to have their rights taken away because of it? And even if we did accept that people could just be "born evil", that doesn't really seem like their fault, does it? And so I think in this hypothetical scenario, we can try to mitigate the harm that kind of person could do, but it just doesn't feel fair to punish them for something that's out of their control.

If you don't believe me about the idea that there are no inherently bad people, look at the biggest determinants for whether someone will be incarcerated at some point in their lives: having been in out of foster care, receiving a poor school education, having early contact with police, having unsupported mental health and cognitive disability, problematic alcohol and other drug use, experiencing homelessness or unstable housing, and coming from or living in a disadvantaged location. The more of those factors a person experienced, the more likely they are to be incarcerated. There's also a link between adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) and incarceration later in life. To me, that just doesn't seem like people who are incarcerated have some sort of propensity towards evil- it seems like people who are incarcerated are a result of a system that failed them.

And if you look at the types of people who are incarcerated, that's basically what you see. About 58% of all incarcerated people either do not have a high school diploma or only have a GED. About 66% of people incarcerated in the US had annual incomes under $12,000 prior to their arrest. 75% of incarcerated adults in the US are functionally illiterate, and 85% of all juveniles who interface with the juvenile court system are functionally low-literate. 44% of those in jail and 37% of those in prison have a diagnosed mental illness, and about 26.7% have ADHD. 58% of people in prison have a substance use disorder. Around 10% of those coming in and out of prisons and jails are homeless in the months before their arrest, and I couldn't find a number, but I imagine significantly more of the current prison population has been homeless at least once in their lives. Some sources suggest that children of incarcerated parents are six to seven times more likely to become incarcerated at some point in their lives, and 68% of men who are incarcerated reported experiencing some form of abuse before age 12.

We also know from other countries that having a strong social safety net and a focus on rehabilitation works. Per capita, Norway, a country with a strong social safety net and a policy focus on the well-being of its citizens, has a homicide rate of 0.552 per 100,000 inhabitants. The US, with its "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" mentality, has a homicide rate of 6.383 - just fewer than Zimbabwe and just more than Grenada. By taking a rehabilitation-focused approach to imprisonment, Norway has reduced its recidivism rate to 25% after five years, and it has one of the lowest crime rates on Earth. In the US, 76.6% of prisoners are rearrested within five years, and in some parts of the country, that number is even higher.

All of this brings me back to my larger point, which is that... I just don't know if I believe that there are people out there who don't have the capacity to be remorseful or who love to hurt others (in like a violent crime kind of way and not in a masochistic kind of way). Looking at Norway again, only 3,687 people were imprisoned there as of 2022 (roughly 0.07% of their population, compared to the US' 0.7%). Of those, only 1,172 were violence or maltreatment (0.02% of their population), and 796 were sexual offenses (0.01% of their population). Of all those people, only 76 are considered to be there for "preventative detention", meaning that Norway doesn't trust that it's safe to release them (0.001% of their total population). If we extrapolate that number to a global scale, that's 82,000 people in the entire world who aren't safe to be around others- way less than the 10.35 million people who are currently incarcerated.

But even then, I just don't believe that those 76 people are in some way defective or irredeemable. Certainly, many of them have done horrible things (although not all of them- two are actually in their for their involvement in a heist, one for armed robbery that didn't kill anyone, and one person seems to be imprisoned primarily for making death threats to the prime minister), but I think most of them are probably just deeply damaged people. I want to be clear that I don't say that to excuse their actions or to spare them from accountability. Rather, it's to say that I think given the right support, some of that damage can be repaired, and maybe, eventually, they'll be safe to release. But even if they never reach the point where they can go out in public again, I still think it's our moral duty to try and help them get to a place where that's possible. I think to not offer them help is to reject their humanity, and that's just not something I can support in good conscience.

[little-miss-understood]

Arranged Marriage

The last of the five little stores I did for @mlrarepairmonth! This one was also the most challenging of the group. It's Marikim, a pairing that does have some love here and there and I think also does work. Enjoy!

-

“Do you think that it will work out?”

Sabine was staring at the two kids playing; one being her daughter Marinette and the other being Lê Chiến Kim. Marinette was waving to him as Kim happily showed off trying to balance on the monkey bars. Her guest quietly sipped their tea as Sabine passed a note across the table.

“Yes, I have faith in these things. I'm sure that they will come to thank us when the time comes.”

-

Marinette was blindsighted. Of all the things her mother could have sprung on her eighteenth birthday, it had to be that there was some kind of arrangement for marriage. She didn't know who the guy was, not to mention what if she had different intentions on who she wanted for a future partner, and yes while she was single at the moment and really didn't have any current crushes who was to say that would change in the future-

“Ooomph.”

Her train of thought stopped as she ran into the front of Kim. That was her fault for sure, Marinette knew, as she hadn't been watching where she was going.

“Oh, sorry Kim, just a lot on my...mind?”

He was staring down at her, while holding up a small faded note in his hand. Marinette then had to think back to what her mother said this morning.

He is closer than you may think, and his mother revealed the arrangement last night. If he has any respect, he'll ensure he lets you know his intentions today. He'll be carrying a note of the agreement made.

Kim was slightly tied for words, and so was Marinette. Sure, they had been childhood friends and had grown up together, but they'd never seen each other in this kind of light. They'd joke about it, but dating? Or even an arranged marriage?

No. Not in a million years.

Right?

But something was tugging at the edges of Marinette's mind. Sure, they could both probably tell their respective parents to stuff it.

Maybe it was worth a try. Just to see.

It was an interesting proposal none the less.

“Now Kim. You don't have to ask to marry me right away. But maybe we could start with a date?”

[love-kurdt]

Thick Skull (byler): II

word count: 2,335

I am a magnet for broken pieces / I am attracted to broken people I pick 'em up and now my fingers are bleeding / And it looks like my fault And it looks like I'm caught red-handed

Will was an observant guy. He never particularly enjoyed being involved in drama, which was unfortunate since drama seemed to always follow him in the form of kidnapping, possession, flesh monsters, and the inarguable, obvious fact that he was head over heels in love with his estranged best friend. He’d given up on subtlety a long time ago, after that incredibly awkward hug at the airport. So he resorted to admiring from afar. It wasn’t like Mike would ever look back at him.

The one time he did was when they were in the van, and he finally mustered up enough courage to give Mike the painting that he’d been slaving for months over. Of course, Mike was all bent out of shape over El when he gave it to him, so he figured he’d spare Mike some grief rather than saying what he actually wanted to say. So he lied and told Mike that the painting was from El, that she felt lost without him, and she would always need him. In reality, he had no idea how she felt. But this was the only way Mike would listen– if the topic was Eleven– so he poured his heart out in a long, tearful speech about how Mike was the heart of the party, followed by a solo crying session that Mike didn’t see.

That heartfelt speech came back to bite him in the ass when Mike told El that his life started the day they found her in the woods. Which just so happened to be the same day that Will went missing. What a spectacular revelation. Besides the infinite loop of “Pass the Dutchie” by Musical Youth blaring from the van speakers, the ride back to Hawkins was silent. El looked sadly out the window, Mike was sulking like a four year old with his arms crossed and one leg over the other, and Will sat on Mike’s left side, feeling completely numb. By this point, Will had given up on trying to appease Mike. Hell, he wasn’t even sure their friendship was worth rekindling, if Mike’s life really started the day Will’s practically ended.

So Will was on edge. All the time. It was bad enough that he had to share a room with Mike, but he was also living in close quarters with both El and Mike. It was absolute torture. He’d set up camp on the floor of Mike’s room, preparing himself to hear all of Mike’s usual rants about Eleven and how she didn’t trust him the way she used to and how she didn’t need him anymore and how insecure he felt about it and yada yada yada. He sounded like a broken record, and Will was tired of listening to the same song over and over. But he couldn’t really blame Mike for thinking he was a good person to talk to about this sort of thing, because he was the one who pushed Mike to win El back in the first place. So Will listened.

It got worse when he had to hear them break up through a very thin wall, and watched as Mike defeatedly walked back into his room, sitting on his bed and glaring at Will after realizing that he wasn’t alone. Will’s existence was an inconvenience. And Will understood that look; after all, he’d seen that same expression on Mike’s face when he made a comment the summer before about how it wasn’t his fault that Will didn’t…

And it was Mike’s fault, actually. It was all Mike’s fault that Will couldn't stop staring at his best friend. For the entirety of Spring Break, it was all he was capable of doing. He couldn’t stop staring at Mike’s yellow shirt (that he’d initially been convinced he’d worn because he knew it was Will’s favorite color), and Mike’s cheesy sunglasses, and Mike’s hands that held a gift that obviously wasn’t for him, and Mike’s ridiculously large flip flops. Even after Mike clapped him on the shoulder, breaking Will’s heart into a million little pieces, he couldn’t stop staring at the way Mike wrapped his arm around El, and the way Mike’s eyebrows furrowed when she mentioned burritos for breakfast, and the way Mike smiled when she mentioned her friends, Stacy and Angela, and the way Mike would occasionally glance at either Jonathan or Argyle, but never him. 

Mike was too busy doting over and then later freaking out over El and her “vicious skate attack,” to speak to Will, and the second they finally had some time by themselves as “friends, best friends,” the circumstances hadn’t exactly been ideal, what with El being arrested, the Byers house being shot up, and being cramped in a van for a week and all. But now, Will and Mike had all the time in the world.

Hit over the head, epiphany / Over my head, repeatedly Thick skull never did nothing for me / Same lesson again?

“Are you serious?! Mom!” Mike complained as Karen helped Will load his belongings into Mike’s room. This was insanity. Was his mother trying to kill him? Spring Break was uncomfortable enough, but now the Hopper-Byers’ stay was extended for an indeterminable amount of time, and Mike was absolutely not having it.

“Michael, you’re fifteen years old. It’s time to grow up,” his mom told him, and Mike simply rolled his eyes to cover up the fact that he was dying inside. He couldn’t face Will after what happened at Surfer Boy Pizza. More specifically, what he said at Surfer Boy Pizza. Now that was something he couldn’t come back from. Compared to this, his fight with El was nothing.

His first mistake was giving El any hope in the first place. Not like he’d given her much to begin with; signing “from” instead of “love” on all his letters to Eleven should have been the first red flag, but how was he supposed to know that he was gay and just in denial about it? He was doing what every boyfriend was supposed to do. But then it hit him that maybe the reason why he couldn’t sign “love” was because he didn’t— couldn’t— love her in the way she wanted him to.

His second mistake was turning on El and freaking out during the roller skating incident with that bitch, Angela. He should have at least been a good friend and stood up for El instead of allowing Angela to take advantage of her, then acting like a goddamn bystander while El sat in a booth by herself after the fact. At the time, it just seemed so much easier to break things off with Eleven, since he could have had a legitimate reason to not want to be with her. But no, that was just cruel.

His third mistake was telling El that he loved her. After the speech that nearly cracked Mike’s little heart open, he could barely function. He knew damn well that El didn’t commission that painting, she didn’t know a single thing about D&D. The canvas might as well have had “Will Byers” written all over it. He felt horrible for the way he just sat there listening to Will cry, but to be honest, if he had tried to talk to Will, he’d have ended up crying too, and that would be too difficult to explain. It probably would have gone something like this: “Will, are you okay? Actually, that’s a dumb fucking question to ask, because you’re literally sobbing right after telling me that El is lost without me. Either I’m reading things wrong, or that painting wasn’t actually commissioned by El, and you’re in love with me, which in that case I want to let you know that,” cue crying here, “I’m in love with you too, and I’m actually gay, and you probably hate me right now because of how much of a dick I’ve been to you recently, but it was only because I don’t know how to act around you, and—” you get the picture. So Mike pressed his true feelings deep down.

That was until the guys stood around the pizza dough freezer, watching El mind-fighting Vecna, and Mike resorted to telling her that he loved her. Just to get her through. But in the reflection of the salt water, while he said those three words that he dreaded so much, he noticed Will’s face fall. So he was right about the painting. But it felt so wrong to see Will so hurt by his words. But he kept on going, for El’s sake. He told her that his life started the day they found her in the woods. That he’d been afraid of losing her. That she needed to fight. And fight she did.

The ride home was eerily quiet. Argyle’s reggae music blasted on an endless loop while Mike sat between El and Will. His ex-girlfriend and the love of his life. Or so he thought, before he went and royally fucked it up like everything else. He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced at Will in the corner of his eye, surprised to see him already looking at the way his legs were crossed. Mike huffed out a breath and looked away, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he might just say those dreaded three words to the boy on his left hand side.

The breakup was inevitable. Mike and El talked it out in Nancy’s room, where Eleven was bunking with his sister. It had actually been a productive conversation. El said it first, her reasoning being that she wanted to find her true self outside of Mike, “Papa,” Hopper, Joyce, Will, Jonathan, and Max. She just wanted to be Eleven for once. And that was completely understandable. When Mike agreed, El was shocked. She thought he’d at least put up a little bit of a fight. 

“I don’t have any fight left in me, El,” he’d confessed. “I’m done trying to be someone I’m not. And I’m sorry you suffered because I wasn’t really there for you. Sure, I sent letters, but they weren’t…”

“True?” El supplied, to which Mike let out a lighthearted scoff. 

“Yeah, I deserve that. Because they weren’t. They were just a way for me to keep you happy, and now I see that you weren’t ever happy. And I’m sorry. It was all a lie. And—”

“Friends don’t lie.”

“…Yeah. Friends don’t lie.”

“Any other things you want to tell the… truth about?” El asked, and Mike shrugged. She took a deep breath before asking, “Maybe why you are so mad that Will is sleeping with you?”

Mike nearly passed out, both from shock and laughter. “Eleven! Oh my God, no! That’s not what that means, Jesus Christ, I—”

“So you are not sleeping together? Or is Will only in your room during the day?” El asked, innocently yet painfully curious.

“Okay, so sleeping together means… Okay, so, Will is just staying in my room, just like you’re staying in Nancy’s. But sleeping together is… doing adult things.”

“Like the happy screams Max told me about last summer?” El asked, and Mike snorted.

“That’s the end of this conversation. Goodbye, Eleven,” he smiled, turning around on his heel and walking out of the room, listening to his friend quietly laughing to herself.

Come on, give it to me Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me

“That’s the end of this conversation. Goodbye, Eleven.”

Will could have sworn that he heard El crying next door, and he thanked whatever higher powers existed that he didn’t strangle Mike the second he walked in the door. Instead, he sat there and watched as Mike sat on his bed, took a look around, and appeared slightly stunned when he noticed Will in the corner.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Mike asked in an accusatory tone, two thin lines forming in between his eyebrows.

“Why am I looking at you like that?” Will laughed incredulously, “Like what, exactly?”

“You look like…” Mike shrugged, his voice suddenly less defensive and more worthy of pity than anything, “like I’m gonna hurt you or something.”

“Well, you have hurt me, Mike! You’ve treated me like shit since I got here— no, wait— since I moved away last year. So you wonder why I’m looking at you like that? Because I’m pretty fucking bitter, Michael.”

“I thought we made up over break! When I suggested we be a team? Friends?”

“Still, explain the past six months, then.”

“How have I treated you like shit, exactly?” Mike stood up, and started pacing. “I mean, we’re living in the same room for God’s sake!”

“Well, you didn’t exactly hide your opposition to that idea when I moved in. You tolerate me.” Shit. That one stung. But Mike could admit, to himself at least, that he kept Will at a distance on purpose.

“Okay, that’s fair. But I’ve been going through something this past year and—”

“Yeah, and I’ve been going through something for the past four, what’s your point?” Will effectively cut Mike off, his mouth snapping shut. Maybe this was the wrong time to say anything. Going through something was the understatement of the century. Mike was going through the biggest identity crisis of his life, and he couldn’t talk to anyone about it, especially Will, even though he was the first person he’d tell anything else to. But Will didn’t seem to be willing to hear the truth, and they clearly weren’t in a good enough place for this topic.

“You know what, Will? Forget it,” Mike shook his head, grabbing his notebook and walkman, and blocking out Will’s silence with one of Eddie’s Iron Maiden tapes.

previous part • next part

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[kariachi]

This is the fic I wanted to write. Hitting on Kev's mom's not-technically-canon-but-could-be-with-ease polyamory. Specifically Gwen asking after shit.

She has much to learn and unlearn.

~~

It came on what should have been a nice, relaxed afternoon, curled together on the couch in Kevin’s apartment. An easy quiet, enjoying a shared hobby in each other’s presence, with not a care in the world. With a million thoughts running rampant behind green eyes, no matter what their owner did to shut them up. Weeks upon hours worth knocking at the walls, begging for attention.

“Babe,” Gwen said, finally giving up on keeping her curiosity in check and setting aside her book, “I have a question.”

“Hm?” Resettling himself on the couch beneath her, Kevin shut his own and rested it on her back. “Shoot.”

For a moment Gwen lay silent, staring into the middle distance in front of his throat as she got her words together. If there was any lack of patience from Kevin, it was only shown with the drumming of fingers on his book.

“Remember when you and your stepdad…” There was no real way she was comfortable describing their confrontation outside her house. Probably it was for the best, as Kevin tensed at the memory.

“I remember,” he said curtly. “What about it?”

“He talked about how much your mom loved your dad,” she said slowly, each word deliberate, “and mentioned he married her when you were like, four?”

“Mm-hm. Mom’s still got pictures-” He gave a little laugh. “-I was fucking adorable.” Gwen couldn’t help a smile.

“I don’t doubt it.” He was adorable as it was. “I was just curious,” she asked, “because I thought you told me your dad died when you were five or, somewhere around there.”

“Five,” Kevin said with a small nod and a hint of roughness to his voice at the memory, “a few months after my birthday.” With a comforting murmur, she reached out to give his hair a stroke.

“So, your mom got married when you were four-”

“Mm-hm.”

“And your dad died when you were five-”

“Yep.”

“And Harvey said she loved your dad more than him?”

“Supposedly.” Kevin shrugged. “I can’t really remember, but according to everybody he was her favorite. Then again to hear people talk Dad was everybody’s favorite.” Gwen had to nod at that. Her own grandfather talked about the alien- when he talked about him- like he’d hung at least the stars, and the other Plumbers in the family had about fallen over themselves when they’d learned she was dating his kid.

“Okay,” she said, “so, how the fuck did that work?” She could see Kevin’s mom sleeping around, was the thing, but everything had been so, matter of fact. And she assumed it would have made it onto the long list of the woman’s faults her grandpa seemed to have memorized. Beneath her, Kevin blinked with a small frown.

“They dated, Harvey proposed,” he said like it was an obvious thing, and now that she knew how long the guy had been in his life her heart gave a twinge to hear him call him by his name, “she said yes, they got married?”

“I know that,” Gwen said, with a laugh despite herself, “I mean with your dad.” Kevin’s brow and nose crinkled.

“They dated, Dad wanted kids, Mom said sure, they had me?” She couldn’t help but feel, looking into those confused brown eyes, his words tumbling in her head, that they were talking passed each other.

“And these happened concurrently?” He raised a brow. “At the same time.”

“Yeah,” he said, again like it was obvious. “I mean, I don’t know who she met first but, Harvey was definitely a part of things by the time Dad clutched. There’s pictures of him, Mom, and me when I was a baby.” Gwen, supposed the numbers added up? Technically?

“And, they were cool?” Harvey had just been so plain with the fact that his wife had loved somebody else more than him. She couldn’t imagine it without something dark twisting in her gut, and so didn’t even try.

“Gotta assume,” Kevin said, relaxing back into the cushions. “Harvey never seemed to have any problem with anyone else she dated, and he never had a bad word about Dad. Plenty about me, but the worst he ever said about him was that he could have done better than Mom.” Laughing despite herself- she didn’t get along with her, but the idea the poor woman’s own husband had been telling her son she hadn’t been good enough for his dad- Gwen shook her head.

“And your dad?” He shrugged.

“Not that I know about. I mean, if he knew Harvey was gonna turn out to be a dick, figure he woulda done something in the five-odd years…”

“So, his girlfriend, who he was having kids with, brought another guy around, no issues?” That seemed like plenty enough reason to have problems to her. “Another guy raising his kid, no issues?”

“Babe, he didn’t even raise me when he had custody of me,” Kevin said, shaking his head. “Before Dad died I lived with him. Was all about as standard Ossy stuff as you can get outside a proper Pack.” Huh. That was something she’d never even considered. But then, so far that was just this whole conversation. New and more than a little confusing.

“And he dated your mom the whole time?” It wasn't entirely a question, but she was having to rewire things in her mind as the conversation progressed. With a quiet and bemused snort, Kevin rolled his eyes.

“Duh. Don’t think Mom’s seen less than two people at a time in my life.” Okay, that answered that then. Gwen raised a brow as she sorted everything in her head.

“‘Don’t think’?” Kevin shrugged again.

“I met a few, but she didn’t normally bring people around,” he said. “Fuck, think she’s seeing like, three? Right now? And I only know one of ‘em.”

“Hm?”

“Family friend from before we moved back east, nice guy. Apparently, he liked her forever and finally got himself to do something about it when she followed me out here.” Despite herself, Gwen couldn’t help a smirk.

“Are we sure you’re not his?”

“Very,” Kevin laughed. “We’re less sure that I’m Mom’s than Dad’s.” Shaking her head, Gwen heaved a sigh and draped her full weight over Kevin, cheek against his throat. There was no indication he even noticed the extra load.

She mulled in the comfortable silence that followed, even as Kevin went back to his book. His parents had been together from before his birth to his dad’s death. His mom and stepfather had been together since at least his infancy through to- she didn’t even know what exactly their status was now. Certainly, she’d never seen the man before or since the… incident. And she was dating now. But apparently she had been dating, had always dated, openly and actively. Something everyone was apparently cool with.

She hesitated to call it ‘weird’, but… But it went counter to everything she’d been taught in her life. From parents to teachers to books to television. She could practically hear, despite never having discussed it prior, her great-grandmother on the topic. ‘Even God had the decency to not intrude any further after knocking up Mary.’ Everything she had encountered prior to this that had touched on the topic of having two relationships at once had, with a big red stamp, marked it as a horrible betrayal, one of the worst things you could do to someone you supposedly loved. But, by all accounts Harvey had been cool. By all accounts Kevin’s dad had been cool. Kevin, who she knew from experience was an absolute labrador of a partner, was cool.

Something twisted rough in her gut at the fact he clearly saw it as normal.

“I’m not sharing you,” she said without a second or to be honest even a first thought. Kevin just idly dropped a hand to card through her hair.

“Ya know, I kinda figured that out.”

[m1d-45]

midas we are holding hands /p holy fucking SHIT. so first of all wendigoon is a great source he is incredibly thorough you have it ENTIRELY right. and also yes in the mandela catalogue (SPOILERS FOR ANYONE UNINITIATED) it is confirmed that the alternates replaced not only christianity, but god himself, so do with that what you will!

there so SOOOOOO many routes you can take with this and i am so so normal about all of them i prommy.

like, the alternate not being an inherently malicious entity, just trying to get rid of you in order to continue its own existence? OHHHH BOY. THEY DID NOT LIE THERE TRULY IS NOT ENOUGH ROOM FOR THE BOTH OF YOU.

the absolute guilt reader could feel if they realized that they were the one who brought alternates into teyvat - or even worse, it’s used against them by the alternate!imposter. “they loved you, and all you have brought them is pain and terror. if you hadn’t interfered, they would not be suffering this plague. this is your fault.” alternates using psychological torture my beloved <3

and also just the horror of people praying to a god that is just as helpless as them… me when i lose my FUCKING mind.

AND THEN CREATOR BEING CAST OUT BY THE ALTERNATE… i mean, if fate got a video game company to make a little game based on your creation, who says it couldn’t give a guy on the internet the idea of a world plagued by doppelgängers? maybe the alternates haven’t been able to gain as much power yet, being seen more as a folk tale if they’re acknowledged at all, but with both the creator and several archons missing, there’s a lot of power vacuums that something could just… slide into :)

there’s also the hurt/comfort version where reader leaves the mandela catalogue verse into an alternate-less teyvat and gets to finally chill the fuck out but i enjoy pain - teddy anon, who is now thinking of what other fucked up universes we can mix in here (hiimmarymary anyone? or perhaps gemini home entertainment, or monument mythos? the possibilities are endless)

RED ALERT WE HAVE TEDDY ANON APPROVAL LETS FUCKIN GOOOOOO

i, too, am entirely normal about the mandela catalogue. let’s be normal together.

i knew the first bit abt alternates replacing christianity and honestly.. just switch some names and you have what i was going for with my initial(?) post abt it.

OH in vol. 4 a ‘shepherd’ is mentioned, somebody who acts against the alternates, so like… that could be reader.

and yes yes yes the alternate literally needing faith to survive is so good and so tasty and it’s you against it to fight for the belief of teyvat- you to heal, to restore your status as a god, and it to live, to exist at all, because it was born of faith and breathes religion.

alternates using psychological terror my beloved as well, the concept of the final standoff between alternate!reader and reader centering around “you were where it all started, you brought this upon this place, the earth you swore you loved now tilled by the enemies hands, using a blade of your own making” is SO good honestly

i know i touched on it with the traveller but against reader??? who has personal investment in everything??? aka a million times more ammo??? incredible show stopping never seen before-

“the horror of people praying to a god that is just as helpless as them” hey teddy do you want my account that line is worth like my soul oh my GOD

me when i lose my mind too. people praying to the thing they’re trying to destroy is great, but people praying for guidance that can’t come?? people asking a god with no power for strength, people praying to the one in chains for freedom from evil i- your MIND my guy

and YES the idea of the alternate(s) being almost forced into existence because of the power vacuum left YES YOU GET IT YOU GET IT

also MOMUMENT MYTHOS? TEDDY FORGET HOLDING MY HAND I AM TAKING YOU TO A LOVELY DINNER /p

aisndkndfn AH IN MONDSTATS STORY QUEST VENTI IS HEALED BY THE TREE IN WINDRISE BC ITS TIED TO ANEMO, SO WHAT IF INSTEAD OF HEALING THESE PLACES OF ELEMENTAL ENERGY ARE TAINTING, CORRUPTING- REPLACING?

hiimmarymary is good and great and i love it and love you but that’s more a tale of a personal struggle rather than a worldwide problem so i’m gonna very gently set it aside

gemini home entertainment i don’t know a lot about, sadly, so i can’t say much about it.

back to monument mythos though: 1) your mind is fucking MASSIVE 2) it’s been a while since i’ve brushed up on the lore BUT: lincoln lookers, right?

shrines to the creator, right?

… :)

[ariestrxsh]

.・✫・゜🚿・。.・✫・゜🚿・。.・✫

⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, degradation, humiliation, mean!matt, brattamer!matt, roughdom!matt, mentions of masturbation, enemies to lovers (but without the fluff)

✍️ Summary: ✍️ Your best friends, Nick and Chris, offer to let you come over to use their water while yours is out at your place. The only problem is you and their brother Matt have always absolutely despised each other, and because both Nick and Chris are gone for the night, you're stuck with Matt all alone.

.・✫・゜🚿・。.・✫・゜🚿・。.・✫

hatef--k part one

"Thank you so much for letting me run a load of laundry and shower over here, you guys. You're seriously lifesavers," I told Nick and Chris, emptying my mess of gym and work clothes into the washing machine.

"Of course. Any idea how long your water's gonna be out?" Nick asked me. "No, I wish. They said anywhere from a few hours to a few days" I groaned.

"Well, like I said earlier, anything you need, we got you. Even if you need to stay here until it's back on, you're welcome to," Chris said, packing up his bag to go over to Nate's place for the night.

"That's really sweet of you, Chris. I might take you up on that if it's not back on by the end of the day," I replied. "Yeah, Chris and I won't even be sleeping here tonight, so you can stay in either of our rooms," Nick mentioned.

"Ew, what is she doing here?" Matt said, entering the room, gesturing at me. "Dude, c'mon, her water's out, and she needs a place to stay for a bit," Chris snapped at Matt.

I got along great with Chris and Nick, but Matt and I weren't very fond of each other. I thought he was cocky, disgusting, and rude, and he thought I was bitchy, shallow, and a whore, and it seemed like we couldn't exist in the same space with one another without being at each other's throats. But we often had to be in each other's space because of our mutual love of Nick and Chris.

"Please tell me you're also staying the night somewhere else," I said, rolling my eyes at Matt. "Why? 'Cause you wanna sleep in my bed?" He asked, smiling at me. "Not in a million years," I shot back. "Nope, not going anywhere tonight," he smirked. "Staying right here so I can annoy you as much as you annoy me."

"Oh my god, you guys, don't kill each other while we're gone. My uber is here," Nick said, putting on his sunglasses and strutting out the front door. "Yeah, seriously. Just please pretend you get along for once," Chris begged right before following Nick out.

I scoffed at Matt and walked over to the couch in the living room and started flipping through channels on their TV. "Um, what is your TV broken too?" Matt gave me attitude, grabbing the remote from me. "C'mon Matt. I can't leave at least until my laundry's done, and I need something to do while I wait to move it along," I whined back, reaching for the remote.

"Okay, cool. So you don't mind watching the game with me then?" Matt asked, turning on some sports channel. "Oh my god, so fucking boring. I just wanted to watch The Bachelorette," I groaned at him. "Yeah? Well that sucks. Who wants to watch some pathetic guys all drool over the same girl?" Matt rolled his eyes at me. "I do!" I yelled, making a last desperate attempt to snatch back the remote.

"Yeah, I bet you like that show because you're a little slut, and you're always juggling a bunch of dudes," Matt sneered. "Hey! That's really mean," I said in a genuinely hurt tone. "Not my fault that it's true," Matt responded harshly.

Sometimes, when Matt would say things like that to me, which was fairly often, it would make me feel a certain type of way that was hard to pinpoint. I was authentically disgusted and got my feelings hurt, but sometimes I'd feel a sensation of yearning in my core, and I didn't fully understand it. It was similar to being turned on, but it was accompanied by all these gross feelings of humiliation and anger, so I tried not to look into it much.

"You know, I just haven't found anyone worth committing to. Doesn't make me a whore," I defensively responded. "Whatever. Why do you care what I think? Is it cause you want me?" Matt smirked. "Absolutley not," I answered, following it up with a gagging sound.

"Yeah, is that how you'd sound, choking on me?" Matt laughed. "Ew, you're sick!" I shouted, storming out of the room. I decided to take a nice, long, hot, everything shower to cleanse myself of Matt's deranged behavior and how sick he made me feel.

I had everything I needed with me already - my razor, my body wash, my shampoo and conditioner, my entire skin care bag, and a towel, along with a change of clothes. I was still in what I'd worn to the gym earlier, and it was nice to finally shed off all my layers and feel the hot water hitting the back of my head and running down the rest of my body.

While I was shaving my legs, I thought I heard someone rustling around in the bathroom with me. "Matt?" I asked. "Chill, I'm just grabbing something. I'll be out of here in a minute," he said. "Fuck you, Matt. Whatever it is, it can wait. I'm in the middle of something here," I complained.

"What? Are you touching yourself?" Matt snickered at me. "Ew gross! I could never do that while I'm in the same house as you. Just get the fuck out. I'm trying to enjoy my shower," I felt myself growing red. I did feel a bit of wetness between my legs as I went to clean myself, but I certainly couldn't do anything about it now. I wouldn't let Matt be right about anything if I could help it.

After shaving and scrubbing just about every inch of myself, I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. I went to reach for my towel and realized it was missing. And so were my clothes? "Matt!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, rifling through the different cabinets and shelves in the bathroom. The fucking pervert took anything I had to cover myself with when he was in here.

"You fucking asshole! Bring me my towel and my clothes!" I shouted out the bathroom door. "You didn't bring clothes or a towel into the bathroom with you? God, you really are a little slut!" Matt yelled back from a few rooms away.

"Not funny, Matt. C'mon. There's nothing for me to dry off with in here!" I yelled. "Well, I guess you're gonna have to come in here and get your towel," Matt responded. "Can you bring it to me?"

"Nope, sorry. In the middle of a game." "I'm not gonna wait 'til you're done with your game. Bring me my towel, jackass!" "That's no way to talk to someone who has the power to either bring you or not bring you your towel. You can always come in here and get it," Matt taunted me.

Fuck. "Fine, I'll wait here patiently 'til your game is over. Just please bring me my towel soon."

A few minutes later, I heard Matt's voice outside the bathroom door. I cracked it open and peered out at him. He was standing about six feet away from me, holding my folded towel. "Here you go," he smiled smugly at me, barely making an attempt to entend his arm. "My arms aren't that long, Matt. Please bring it to me," I reached my hand out, hiding my naked body behind the door. "No, you can meet me halfway," Matt teased.

I found myself getting so undeniably wet at this. I couldn't understand it. How was it that Matt, who was clearly very disturbed and also a fucking asshole, had me sexually excited over the fact that he was trying to humiliate me and see me naked.

"Fuck you, Matt," I said coming out from behind the door and trying to snatch the towel from him. He held it up in the air out of my reach. "You're such a dick, you know that? What? Is this what you wanted to see?" I said, giving up on getting the towel back and gesturing towards my body.

Matt couldn't help but to glance up and down my body and nibbled on his lip as he tried his hardest to contain his grin. "Why the fuck would I wanna see that? You're the one basically throwing yourself at me," Matt handed me my towel, winked at me, and walked away.

"Where did you put my clothes, Matt?" I said, wrapping my towel around me. "What clothes?" He rolled his eyes at me. "Not fucking funny. The only clothes that I have that are clean right now. Give them to me," I demanded. "No, I think you look better in that towel," he smiled at me.

"Perv," I called him. "I might be a perv, but you like it," he responded. "No, I don't," I quickly answered. "There's only one way for me to find out," Matt looked at me with a dark look in his eyes. "I bet you're wet right now, because you're a little whore, and you love being teased and showing off your body."

"I am not!" I argued back. "Let's make this interesting. Prove it to me, and if you're telling the truth and you're not wet, I'll do whatever you want," Matt said, "and if I'm right and you are wet down there, then you have to let me eat you out."

"Oh my god you're so gross, Matt," I pushed him back gently. "What do you want if you win our little game?" Matt replied. "You have to be nice to me for a month," I stated, "and you have to give me my clothes you took and finish the rest of my laundry while I go home and enjoy the rest of my night alone."

"Okay, deal," Matt said, reaching for the bottom of my towel and slowly pushing it up. I wasn't a religious person, but in that moment, I prayed that I wasn't wet enough for Matt to be able to tell. I bit my lip and held back a moan as he brushed his finger between my folds.

"Wow, naughty girl. You are wet," Matt observed. "Fuck you, Matt," I answered, my face reddening. "I knew you were touching yourself in the shower," he whispered back, continuing to run his fingers over my wetness. "No, I swear, I really wasn't," I responded, slowly losing my focus as Matt played with me.

"You mean, you got this wet and you didn't even touch yourself? You really are turned on, you dirty little whore," Matt growled back to me. "I hate it when you call me that," I moaned.

"You hate it? Your wet pussy is telling me otherwise," Matt teased me. "Sorry, correction, I fucking hate you," I lashed out. "I think you fucking love to hate me," Matt said, tilting my chin up with his finger. I pushed him again. I watched as something in his demeanor changed, the way his features darkened and became more serious.

He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder while my towel barely clung to my body. I protested and started hitting his back as he carried me into his room, but I secretly couldn't wait for him to have his way with me.

part two posted here 💖

[cagenewman]

Cage's laugh came from low in his chest as he thought back through the years, what kind of parent he was to Colton, if he had been the good cop or the bad cop, the one that made life fun, or the one that made him put his socks away… maybe somewhere in between. "I feel like I'm harder on him now than I was back then. But I have to be," he was a teenager, he had a girlfriend, he had to worry about grades and making it to practice on time and a million other things, and Cage found that it was more of a balance to be his father and best friend, all rolled into one. "For what it's worth, I think he always thought that you were fun, though. So there's that."

"Yeah, no kidding," he shook his head, already struggling with the idea every day that Willie and Twix were getting older, that they wouldn't be there forever. But they were with the family now, and he made the most of every long walk through the woods, or every snuggle session on the couch with Twix. "Ah, well," he offered her a wry smile. "There's still plenty of time to make it a total disaster, if you want," but he was only teasing. Cage didn't think that either of them wanted to consider that an option.

"Did I teach you nothing?" he asked, pressing a hand to his heart as though wounded when she said that it was new, given what he did for a living. His disdain for new builds had always been evident, but… in this case, he was glad for her, happy that she'd found a place to call home. "I'll have to come see it, though, I'll try not to scoff and roll my eyes or go into whole-home-inspection mode," and then, when she mentioned dinner, Cordelia coming along, asking if it would be weird, he let out a laugh, a little nervous, taking a sip of his coffee. "I…" he trailed off, letting out a small breath and licked his lips. "I'd have to talk to her. Me being married before, it's a hot spot for her, and I get it. We grew up thinking we would get married right out of high school and I blew things up and left her behind and then married someone else," which in no way was Tamara's fault, nor did he think Cordelia would dislike hold it against her; hearts could be tricky things. "So I want to be respectful of how she feels before trying dinner."

His words were true, time was a whole other game park. Nonetheless, he still remained the same after all these years, still having that boyish charm to him. Was it weird to acknowledge he still had the same enticing aroma? Maybe, but the familiar scent was a further comfort as well as his understanding. Tamara thought to herself that he must get it quite a lot these days. “Oh, so back when we were together, who was the fun parent then? Still you?” She attempted to hold her composure, acting as if she wasn’t just joking around. “Kidding… Too soon?”

“Pets really are a treasure, aren’t they? It’s such a shame a lot of the time they live shorter lives than us.” Tamara dreaded the day she had to think about her beautiful Nebula leaving this world. Realising how bleak of a topic that was, she was quick to change the subject. “Can’t change the past, so there’s no need to dwell on it. That’s my motto these days. I’m just glad this isn’t a total disaster.”

At his enquiry of her home, her eyes lit up a little bit more. “New. It’s a gorgeous suburban two story. 4 bedrooms, 3 and a half bathrooms. Lots of natural light. I’d love for you to come over for dinner, maybe? Would that be weird? Maybe without the kids, and Cordelia can come, too, if she’d like.” Did I really just offer that? She was a little taken aback by herself. The invitation felt like a natural response but because it was Cage and Cordelia? Everything was still fresh with her return, and she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to try and befriend her exes current fiance. The only thing Tamara really knew about her was that she was Theo’s sister and well, now romantically involved with her ex.

[tteokdoroki]

waves that hurt | k.bakugou + i.midoriya.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader x izuku midoriya.

♡ word count: 3.04K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, hurt, angst and comfort.

♡ summary: dark days mean dark waves that crash across your mind, intrusive and mean the waves pull you under— but they are the helping hands that pull you up and let you breathe.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy tw for depression, intrusive thoughts and self depreciation, self doubt and low self-worth. this fic is written mostly from personal experiences and may not be accurate to how everyone feels! mentions of therapy.

♡ author’s note(s):  this is my contribution to @doinmybesthere​ ‘s mental health awareness collab, this is kinda personal to me and something i experienced recently!! i hope it can provide some comfort to anyone out there, please don’t forget to check out everyone else’s works and i hope you’re all safe ‘n well <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

“kacchan, it’s much worse this time, i really think you should come home early tonight.”

deku whispers into the phone, his marred hands rub slow and soothing circles into your back from over the duvet— you can feel his warmth, light and airy through it but he feels and sounds much further away. a million miles across a dark ocean that trickles through your thoughts, intrusive and mean, keeping you under and away from clear air.

you wouldn’t want to pull him into this, bother him with the way you drown in dark thoughts— so you pull away from your boyfriend and tuck yourself away into the sheets.

izuku doesn’t retract his hand even as you pull away, listening to katsuki grunt orders down the phone— make sure yn’s eaten, make sure yn’s had water. basic things you should be able to do on your own but can’t, paralysed by the anxiety and depression that clamps down on you like a vice and refuses to let you up so you can just breathe. you want to breathe and not feel like the world is crashing down on you, to have a second to yourself where everything seems like it’s okay.

brushing fingers over the nape of your neck, toying with the coils of your baby hairs, your boyfriend speaks, only gently. “baby,” says quietly, his weight causing the bed to dip. “katsuki will be home soon, do you want to come with me to let him in?” you shrug, a sick feeling twisting in your gut. you see the black tendrils and waves in the back of your mind, bringing forth a new batch of ugly words that force you down. are you really that much of a burden these days that katsuki has to call it quits on work for you? “how are you feeling?”

you don’t know, you don’t know how to tell him that every thought you have hurts and there’s a pain in your chest with every breath you take. “i don’t know, it’s just...bad izu…” you want to explain how you feel deep inside, but the words are trapped like balls of tar in your throat— fear that if you say something he’ll walk away.

“you don’t have to say anything, don’t force yourself to…” he speaks with a soft voice, cotton to your ears in an attempt to soothe you. you can just about feel the clean air flowing through your lungs at the sound— it tells you he loves you, no matter what and you almost believe it before sinking back under. “let’s get you some water okay? wouldn’t want kacchan scolding us would we?”

the joke hangs in the murky and heavy air for a few seconds before you muster a small smile— your green haired boyfriend lets out a tiny sigh of relief and pressed a kiss into your hairline, the affection simmers under your skin and briefly brings light to your dark mind as izuku starts leading you to the kitchen.

you’re curled up in izuku’s lap when the front door pops open with a click— signifying your other boyfriend had arrived home. you flinch, hiding yourself in the blankets keeping you warm and locking away the dark thoughts from the eyes of your lovers.

part of you hated them seeing you this way, that’s why you forced yourself to keep everything away from them— but they knew, they always did and always came to your rescue. you didn’t want them to feel like they had to look after you when the days were bad and draining and your mind took hold of everything that you felt. you didn’t need the weight of your own problems on the shoulders of two pro heroes who had enough to deal with.

in the end, you would destroy them like you did with yourself.

you can hear katsuki shedding his gear by the door, feeling his intense and heated presence flood the room and barely penetrate the barrier you created for yourself even while you lay in izuku’s arms. for as long as you’d known the two— even from back in your U.A days, bakugou had hated self-pity, of course in recent years he’d cooled down a little and spoke less on the actions of others but even still, you weren’t sure if you could handle him looking down on you for looking down on yourself and for feeling this way.

the blanket is suddenly lifted from your head, momentarily blinding you with the overwhelming light that is your boyfriend, katsuki bakugou. a twinkle of concern lines his ruby eyes and you can see traces of his charcoal eyeliner that he usually smudges underneath his mask— he’s so beautiful but you’re afraid of the twitches of worry, afraid that he’s mad at you for being the way you are.

“hey honey,” bakugou hums, crouching to your level to cup your cheeks, stress bleeding from his body when you nuzzle into him.

izuku gives you a squeeze, an encouraging one and you nod. “hi,” is all you can muster, afraid of blurting the intrusive words that crackle across your brain.

katsuki sits back on his haunches, looking between you and his boyfriend before he attempts to kick off his shoes. the room is full of a thick, ugly quietness that you know you’re responsible for— they don’t have to say anything, you know that it’s you. because when you’re like this it’s hard for bakugou and midoriya to talk, afraid that they’ll say something to set you off and you afraid that they’ll leave if they knew how you really felt. how trapped and alone you felt inside, how the twisted darkness added tones to your vibes and dragged you down with every step that you took.

they don’t need to say it because it flows from your body like a rushing river and drowns them, fills their lungs and it’s your fault for infecting them with your own bitter taste of life.

“have you eaten?” the blonde of the two boys asks, looking you dead in the eye. you want to answer, but again the viscous back from earlier starts to flood through your body. you try to take care of yourself of these days where you feel it the hardest, but it’s difficult to move and to breathe— and the drive to complete even the simplest of tasks is barely ever there.

you move to speak, caught up in the thick smog of your own brain when izuku gives your body a squeeze and shakes his head, the forest of his hair brushing against your cheek. “you’ve had water, right?” izuku has no problem answering for you. “but nothing to eat,” he whispers, keeping his voice low as if to hide his worry from you— it’s light in his tone but tremors throughout the number one’s body. you feel sick for making him feel that way.

katsuki’s gaze shifts back from his boyfriend to you, his expression unreadable because he knows how you get if they worry too much about you. you’re thankful, partly for that at least, his blank face prevents your mind from reading too deep into things and blaming yourself for things out of your own control.

“‘m makin’ your favourite for dinner. you’ll eat it, no questions asked.” the explosive pro hero states firmly, rising from his place crouched down by your side, obviously not before thumbing over your cheeks to wipe away evidence of your dried tears. “gonna run you a bath too, damn nerd better get you upstairs and ready by the time it’s done.” deku’s chest rumbles with a light hearted chuckle beneath you, lifting the heavy weight of the air within the room— bakugou had always loved brashly, with a fiery intensity that hardly left room for the answer ‘no’, and while izuku was more tame, they balanced one another out in a way that felt more like a warm hug than a battle. they grounded you, in the best of ways.

true to his disgruntled words, your blonde headed boyfriend runs you a hot bath. you don’t miss the addition of lavender oil to the perfectly warm water, the baking soda which you’re sure he only knew to add because his mother had said it would remove the demon spawn toxins in his body. izuku is the one to help you strip, holds your hands as you kick off gross comfort clothes and folds them away, after pressing kisses to your groggy face and chin.

it’s almost funny to see the two biggest and beefiest pro heroes sit on your bathroom floor crossed legged and beside the tub— both of them taking up the majority of the room. you know for a fact that no one would believe the sight unless they saw it, but they’re there. both of them, izuku midoriya and bakugou katsuki are with you encompassed in the silence while you wash away the ugly words that plague your mind and fill the pores of your skin.

they’re still there.

even as sweet lavender water moves in soft waves over your bare body, while black ink moves in the same way across your brain— tattooing self-depreciating thoughts into every inch. you’re not worth their time, they say, you’re wasting it. because how could their precious time be put to good use if you’re taking it up, they could be saving people but instead your boyfriends are here, drowning in your own darkness.

they’re still fucking here.

when they could be out there saving the people who needed it, who were suffering out there in the world outside of your home.

and the suds against your body, the warm water sloshing over your thighs isn’t enough to get rid of the burning sensation of vile phrases printing themselves against your body and clouding every thought that you think. toxic, mean and nasty things you can’t scrub away— none of it is enough to make you feel like you deserve bakugou tenderly lathering you up with the rose scented soap his mother had sent you for christmas or the sips of cool water midoriya brings to your lips in order to prevent you from overheating in the steam of the bathroom.

deku catches the painful twist in your face, pausing his movements to study you. “whaddya need?” you need it to stop, to find something to replace the pain and doubts that fill you.

“water, hotter,” you croak quietly, tears building up in the base of your throat as katsuki catches on and flicks the tap for a stream of hot water to fill the tub. “please,”

they tell you to let them know when to stop if the heat gets too much, but the scalding water burns away any reminders of the self loathing you feel across every inch of your mind, your body and your soul. it stings at the darkness in a way that’s painfully soothing and maybe if you sink under— it could stop hurting completely. if you could slide deeper into the water, would the waves of darkness not crash so hard?

and then the damn breaks, like a tsunami the guilt and anguish you feel crashes over your body and takes control, leaving you fighting for oxygen in the form of your happiness.

everything that you’d been holding back flows freely in salty tears from tired eyes, scorching a path down the apples of your cheeks and mingling with the contents of the tub below. your boys, they don’t notice at first, how you cry and curl in on yourself until you think the world won’t notice you anymore but then just as they always do, they’re pulling you into their warmth and bubble of light— freeing you from black intrusive tendrils even if it means they have to crawl into the tub and wade their through the ocean you’ve made to set yourselves apart.

“don’t—!” you heave with an uneven voice, signs of you falling apart evident in every way. bakugou and deku pull away from you slowly, with dripping shirts and worry written across freckled faces and red eyes. they’re scared for you, hate seeing you force your feelings down and away from them. “please don’t touch me—you’ll—“

the water in the bathtub sloshes from where you retract from their touch, backing yourself up against the wall and away from your boys. “we’ll what?” izuku presses but only gently, keeping you afloat, stopping you from sinking and bakugou stays put in his place, letting the latter talk you down.

you shake your head, trying to think of the right words but it’s hard to, with the crashing waves heavy against your ears. how do you tell your lovers that everything hurts, to think and to feel, to live day by day. you don’t want to bother them with and an extra stress to their busy lives. but you can’t keep it in any longer, bursting at the seams. “you’ll drown. i-if i touch you, i’ll pull you under, you’ll drown with me and you won’t be able to breathe and all those horrible things that i think about will burn in your lungs until you give up fighting like me,” your tears and hiccups interrupt your words, but they listen. bakugou and deku, they listen and they stay.

“yn—“

“because if you do, then all that i feel will be a burden to you— i’ll break in ways that can’t be fixed and you’ll be forced to pick up the pieces and i’ll just be a burden,” you continue, not even pausing to take a breath while you continue to cry. “if you stay to pick up the pieces, you’ll be taken away from people who need you, who are worth saving, and can be helped and—“

you can’t recount how many nights, similar to this in which you wondered why and how two pro heroes could want and love you, why they dealt with your down days that sometimes outnumbered the ups— even if they’d shown you how much they cared, you couldn’t help but feel guilty as if your sadness took up their time to save someone else.

“you can be helped, yn. you don’t have to go what you’re going through alone, you’re worth the time and the effort of helping, no one deserves to suffer,” the green haired of your two boyfriends cuts through the tail ends of your words, still keeping distance until he knows it’s safe to touch you again. there is no look of condescending pity on his face, no sign to show you’ve pulled him into the dark of your mind. it’s just izuku, trying to help you pull through.

you look to katsuki hesitantly, he hasn’t said a word. “but i don’t want to be seen as...as weak, or to worry you because i can’t get out of my own head—“

“y’not fuckin’ weak, we’d never think that of you. we see you try to hide your pain, pretend things don’t get to you when they do. but fuckin’ handlin’ things on ya own can make y’stronger than any two heroes combined,” a look of anger flashes across his features, finer with age and tired with work. but bakugou isn’t angry with you, but with himself for leading you to believe that you were an extra weight on his shoulders. both of their shoulders. “yer not gonna get rid of us or scare us away, we love ya, we’re here for ya ‘n if it’s help that you need or think yer not worthy of, we’ll find some. it’s okay t’ask for help.”

maybe it’s hearing it from someone else, that your pain and your depression is valid, that you’re not an extra weight on the people you love that allows you to come up from a tar-like ocean for fresh air in your lungs, for the waves to calm and the storm raging in your mind to soothe. maybe it’s the two of your boyfriends being there for you despite the fear that you’d scare them away with not being okay that washes away some of the awful things you think.

you know that their support won’t make things go away over night, that it will take time for you to heal but for now you can keep your head above the water just long enough to breathe.

“can i touch you now? is it okay?” deku asks, feeling less distant from you than at the start of the day, but as your body shakes with the last of your tears all you manage is a nod before the number one hero is pulling you into his chest from the tub and the number two is wrapping a towel and his arms around you.

you sit sandwiched between the two, they keep you at the surface— holding you tight while you let out what you’ve been holding back. “we can get some help if y’want it, the doctors...therapy might be nerve wrackin’...scary even, but it can help and we’ll be there every single step of the fuckin’ way,” katsuki reasures you with pets to your head, rocking you back and forth on your bathroom floor, steam clinging to the air that you can finally breathe.

izuku nods along in agreement, pressing kisses to your wet hairline. “we’ll be here. you won’t be alone.”

the murkiness of the water in your mind starts to clear, but only just— their warmth starts to push through the clouds like sunshine brushing against your skin. a light to the dark that's plagued your every waking moment, the waves no longer crash and destroy but instead lap comfortingly at your painful thoughts and tame them just enough for you to have a moment of clarity.

you don’t have to be alone or millions of miles away, you deserve the hands of your loved ones that offer you help instead of pushing them away. the process of healing and things like therapy or meds will be hard sometimes, but katsuki and izuku will be here by your side, to help you manage days where darkness rolls in waves that hurt and help you breathe once again.

[gguksgalaxy]

Stranded | JJK | E2L

Jungkook’s offer to help you study for your exam is unwelcome. His entire presence is unwelcome. You don’t want help from the guy who passes all his classes without even trying. It’s annoying — he is annoying. From the way he grins whenever he catches you staring at him, to the way his eyes shine whenever he smiles at you. Oh, and let’s not forget the way his tattoos shift when he stretches or the way his jawline sharpens when he’s focused. Nope, you definitely can’t stand him.

›› AU: Enemies to lovers, fuck/badboy!Jungkook ›› Genre: Fluff / Smut / Angst ›› Rating: NC-17 (explicit sexual content, 18+) ›› Pairing: JJK x Reader ›› Word Count: 13k ›› Jungkook Snuggle Drabbles. Warnings Include: A lot of swearing, heavy themes of miscommunication and strong judgements, Jungkook sleeps around a lot, university related stress, brief mention of past underage drinking, emotional and romantic angst, argument, the desecration of a mug.  Sexual content: Protected sex, blowjob, cunnilingus, face sitting/riding.

A/N: This one's for you @fallinforkoo I hope that you like it!! This is not something I would usually write but the idea popped up when seeing the request so here she is! A little cliché but I hope it's original enough. Let me know what you guys think!

“As your best friend,” Taehyung says sheepishly over the phone, “I really need you to do me a favour.”

You groan, leaning your head over the edge of the bed. “I don’t like where this is going.”

He hums. He doesn’t even laugh. There’s just a brief silence before he asks you the impossible. “I need you to invite Jungkook for the get-together on Friday.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” you spit. “Taehyung, my best friend, the platonic love of my life. I will do anything for you. Literally anything. I would suck your toes if you asked me, but I won’t do that.”

Now he laughs, loud and deep. It only makes you sulk more. Inviting Jeon Jungkook into your humble abode? To have him walk around with that smug—and delectably gorgeous—grin on his face as he finds something to make fun of? Not over your dead body. Not in a million years.

“Please, do it for me.”

You vigorously shake your head. “I don’t see how I would be doing you a favour by inviting him. You don’t even like him!”

“I mean...I really don’t mind him. But I like Jimin, a lot, and I feel bad for excluding his friend all the time, it’s starting to get weird. Can’t you just invite him over? I promise you won’t have to talk to him.”

Oh, but you do. Because Jungkook always manages to weasel under your skin and get you worked up to a point where you just have to say something. It’s not your fault that he’s such an ass. He just rubs you all the wrong ways. “I am in a constant state of wanting to rip his head off. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Jungkook is just so...You really cannot stand him. First of all, he doesn’t study. All he does is party and sleep around with random girls. Yet, he still somehow manages to be at the top of the class. Secondly, he’s a dick. He has no respect for both his elders and you. Any chance he gets he will make fun of you or blatantly insult you. And lastly, he looks too good and he knows it. Walking around campus just basking in the attention from all the girls, and guys, who want him despite his reputation.

Taehyung snorts. “If I were you, I would be more worried that you’re in a constant state of wanting to suck his dick.”

“I’d rather snap his dick in half.” Sometimes you wonder why you’re friends with Taehyung. After all, he’s the one who told Jimin to bring along his friend. Now, you’re regularly exposed to Jeon Jungkook’s incessant flirting with anything that breathes, constant whining about just about everything, and complete lack of personal space. Taehyung had been certain that if you got to know Jungkook outside of class, it would make you more amicable towards each other. However, it’s only made it worse.

“You know, sometimes people lie about something so often that they start to feel like it’s the truth.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up on the bed. It’s noon already. You really should be studying for your Psychology of Law exam. Also known as the course from hell. As a law student, you really can’t make sense of the material. All the mumbling about internal thought processes and stressors has your mind logging off. You’re chapters behind. You don’t even know where to start. Because unlike a certain someone, you actually have to study. Even with all-nighters, thorough summaries, and flashcards, you’ve still managed to fail quite a few classes. The future of your law degree literally balances on this one class. If you fail, you lose your scholarship.

“Are you still with me?”  Taehyung asks.

“Yeah, I’m just considering defenestrating myself. Anything better than studying for psych.”

“Even inviting Jungkook?”

“Anything but that.”  It’s not like Taehyung is completely wrong. Jungkook looks like a model when he actually decides to groom himself instead of showing up to class in sweats and uncombed hair. You’re way too aware that he works out five days a week. Or that he’s got tats lining his arm, intricate designs that—No. You’re not falling down this hole today.

Taehyung’s typing something up, probably studying for his own exams. “I will let you study then. Just please, invite him over. I will forever be in your debt. Be the better person.”

The sweet lining to Taehyung’s plea actually manages to work for once. He’s your best friend, after all. He would probably do the same thing for you. It’s just not that fun to be around Jungkook when part of you—as much as you may deny it—feels some type of way about him.

“I will consider it.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Don’t make me change it back to a no, Kim.”

He chuckles. “Someday, you will thank me. That day being the one when you finally come to terms with your feelings.”

“Bye, Taehyung,” you grumble, ending the call and throwing the phone down on the duvet.

So yes, maybe you do have a thing for Jungkook. Doesn’t make him any less annoying. If anything, it makes him even more insufferable. Why did you have to develop a weird crush on a guy you can’t even stand? The world doesn’t have to be cruel like that. But here you are. Not that it matters. Jungkook would sleep with just about any girl but you. Which says more about them.

Reluctantly, you get up and grab your books from your desk. Studying is easier in the living room, away from distractions.

Your peace doesn’t last long. Not even halfway through your first coffee, your doorbell rings.

Groaning, you get up and prepare your best ‘no I don’t want to buy whatever you’re selling’ face. Upon unlocking the door, that face falters.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you spit out the moment you see Jungkook’s big doe eyes. He’s standing on your doorstep like he’s supposed to be here. With his backpack nonchalantly slung over one shoulder.

He looks past you, into your apartment. “Oh, you started studying for psych?”

Your living room is a mess. “Well, I was trying to start, but I’ve been rudely interrupted by someone who has no invitation to be here.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m here to make sure that you don’t fail another class and have to drop out.” Like he owns the place, he pushes past you and waltzes inside. He drops his backpack and readjusts his baseball cap, showing off his forehead and chocolate brown hair. It’s really starting to get long.

“I don’t need your help.” There’s no way he’s here just to help you study. And even if he was, he’s just going to distract you. You’re not friends. He must have some ulterior motive for being here. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t study, let alone help people study. Not to your knowledge at least. “I can manage just fine on my own.”

He grabs his laptop from his bag. “What part of ‘having to drop out if you fail another class’ did you not understand?” He puts the device down and gets comfortable on your couch. As if he’s done it before.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Who told you about that?”

He shrugs. “Jimin mentioned it, he must have it from Taehyung. Does it really matter?”

“Yes, it matters,” you sneer. “I didn’t ask you to be here. I don’t want you to be here. There’s no way I’m going to get anything done with you around. Get the fuck out.” You point a finger at the door, waiting for him to leave. “Do you not hear me?”

“Oh, I heard you. I’m just waiting for you to get over yourself and realise that you actually need my help.”

“I don’t.”

“Can you tell me the difference between compliance and suggestion in the context of a police hearing?” he questions, leaning back and propping his clunky boot-clad feet onto the table.

You press your lips together in a thin line, thinking about a possible answer.

He grins. “Any idea what the Reid Technique is and why it is or isn’t ethical?”

“No,” you grumble.

“You know what the pros and cons are of an Oslo style eyewitness lineup?”

You shake your head, dropping your arms in defeat. He’s got you. You don’t know anything. Maybe you do need his help. As long as he tries to be nice, you can give him the benefit of the doubt. Another year of your degree is definitely worth it.

Jungkook pats the spot on the couch beside him. “Let’s get started, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover if we want to get you a good grade.”

And so you get to work. Jungkook makes himself a little too comfortable in your home. Aside from pulling out his flashcards, multiple summaries and annotated materials, he actually slips into the kitchen to make tea. He raids your pantry for snacks and pulls out your blanket from under the table.

“What?” He says, mouth stuffed with gummy bears while he unfolds the blanket. “I’m sorry, but your apartment is really fucking cold. Since you’re dressed as if you’re going to the North Pole, I assumed the radiator must be broken.”

“It has been almost a week now. My landlord is being an ass about it. Also, I’m wearing normal clothes that normal people wear when it’s cold outside. Unlike you, with your short-sleeves and thin coat.”

“It’s October.”

“It’s nine degrees outside. You’re insane.”

“No,” he says, sitting back down with the blanket around his shoulders. “I’m just hot.”

A reluctant smile pulls at your lips. Why must you betray yourself?

He leans in close, inspecting your face. “I can’t believe I lived to see the day. You actually smiled at one of my jokes.”

If he’s good at one thing, it’s definitely proving that he’s an annoying shit. “I’m laughing at how pathetic you are.”

“At least I’m not the one who tried to hide her smile.”

“And I’m not the one who forced his way into this apartment. I’d watch out, some people might start to think you actually like being around me.” You turn back towards his laptop, scrolling through the document to the next topic. Police hearings.

Jungkook puts his hand down behind you so he can get closer—too close—and look over your shoulder. “Maybe,” he whispers, “I do like spending time with you.”

You whip your head around so fast you nearly knock heads with him. He doesn’t move. Both your noses basically touching. At this proximity you can see all the fine details in his skin. The flecks of lighter brown in his eyes that really do shine. The moles on his nose, the scar on his cheek.

“Nah.” He pulls away. “I’m just messing with you. I still don’t like you.”

What on earth did you do to make him come over here? If he dislikes you so much, he shouldn’t have bothered. You’re not a charity case. “If you’d just let me fail, you wouldn’t have to put up with me again.”

He tuts. “Where’s the fun in that? I’d honestly miss your bad comebacks and petty remarks.”

“Excuse me, my comebacks are not bad?”

“They’re mediocre at best, ma’am,” he laughs, grin showing the fullness of his cheeks that make him look deceptively cute.

You shiver at the thought. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not cute. Yes, he’s probably a good guy deep down, but he’s not cute. Jeon Jungkook is and always will be an annoying, self-entitled, arrogant brat. Nothing is going to change your mind. Not even the way your heart beats faster from just having him so close.

“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me,” you bite.

“I’m not even going to give you any points for that. You didn’t even try!” He makes an exasperated gesture as he grabs another handful of gummies.

‘Childish’ should be added to the list. “Are you here to help me study or not?”

Jungkook nods, sitting cross-legged. “Just so I get to bother you for another year.”

The two of you get back to work. He takes you through a very detailed and too dramatic explanation of the Reid technique. You find yourself captivated by how passionate he seems. He sure does know a lot about the subject.

Jungkook turns out to be a very active talker. He makes very detailed descriptions and uses his hands to explain things. It’s easy to understand him, but it’s way harder to memorise it. As the material gets more complicated, he gets more serious and you start to lose track. His frown deepens, dimple-like creases appearing in his cheek that make him look sharper and older. You can’t help but stare.

He’s so handsome. The tattoos that circle around his left arm shift as he speaks. The same way that his earrings dangle as he moves. You get caught up in him, the way he talks, the passion that rolls off him in waves.

“Are you gawking at me?”  He says, stopping his movements mid-air.

Cheeks flushed, you try to come up with a smart reply. “I was thinking whether your head has always looked this big.”

His lips pull into a straight line. “I’m here trying to do my best to explain to you what the difference is between an Oslo confrontation and a sequential lineup, and you’re worried about the size of my fucking head?”

“I mean, it’s awfully big, no?”  You poke his forehead.

He grabs your wrist in return, pulling your body towards him. “Can you at least try to appreciate my effort?”

“I’m listening!”

Wetting his lips, he arches an eyebrow. “Explain the difference to me.”

Well, you weren’t listening that intently. “Uh, a sequential lineup has a lower chance of causing false positives.”

“That’s the last sentence I said, you can do better.” He lets go of you so you can lean back. For a second, he actually seems pissed off. Maybe you should try, he’s doing his best after all. It’s just hard when he’s here looking this good.

“Oslo confrontations feature the suspects in a lineup at the same time, whereas a sequential lineup shows them one by one.” That’s all you got.

“Well,” he says, throwing you a gummy from the bag. “You got one point out of five.”

Treat halfway to your mouth, you stop. “One?!”

He nods. “And I’m being generous with you. First of all, you cannot call them suspects, they’re candidates or possible suspects. There’s usually only one suspect and the rest are actors who look like the suspect. You also missed the part where, during the sequential lineup, the witness doesn’t get to see all the suspects. Once they pick the one they think is the perpetrator, they will not get to see the additional candidates.”  Why does this sound so hot when he says it?

God, you’re going insane. “Well, I’ll try to remember that and the seven-hundred other things you said. All the blabbering you do makes it really hard.”  It comes out harsher than you intended. From the way Jungkook stays silent, you know it must’ve hit home.

He gets up, making your heart sink. “I think it’s time for a break. You’re getting frustrated. Do you want to order pizza?”

“I don’t recall asking you to stay over for dinner.”

Jungkook takes a long, deep breath, closing his eyes. You can feel the anger build up. “Listen, I’m here to help you. The least you can do is fucking appreciate it. Be stubborn all you want, but you need this. You want a shot at this degree. I’m here, because as much as I can’t stand you, I won’t enjoy watching you get kicked off the entire program because you’re struggling with the material.”  There’s a heavy pause. You let his words sink in. The level of concern is surprising. It’s sweet. “So do you want to order pizza or not? Because I’m starving.”

You nod. “Pizza sounds good.”

The tension ebs away after that. Jungkook goes into the kitchen and comes back with a mug filled with milk, of all things. You bite your tongue.

“I want pineapple on my pizza,” he says.

Pausing, you raise your eyebrows. “You cannot be serious.”

“Depends. How much do you hate pineapple?” His shit eating grin returned like it was never gone. It gives him away.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you speak; “So, double pineapple for you?”

Suddenly, his face falters. “Whoa, you can’t actually do that to me.”

“You’re the one who said he likes pineapple!”

“It was a joke. No person in their right mind would put fruit on their pizza.”  He sits next to you, taking another sip of his milk. “I’m really not picky though, but the one with the jalapenos is good. Or the chili chicken.”  Jungkook scoots closer so he can scroll through the menu on your phone, hand brushing against yours.

This way, you get a clear view of the rose tattoo on his hand. It’s beautiful, detailed but still in a traditional style. It suits him, as do his other tattoos. Though this one has always stood out to you.

“I’m just going to get pepperoni,” you say after a while.

Jungkook sighs, then turns his head to whisper in your ear; “Boring.”

Startled, you shove him so hard he falls onto his back. “Don’t be such a child. I’m not going to make you eat it.”

When he sits back up, his shirt rises and reveals the edge of a narrow, toned waist. You look away, focusing on actually ordering the pizza. Jungkook really doesn’t have to be so casually attractive. He’s not even trying and you can’t keep your eyes off him, noticing something new every minute. A good reason to not spend any more time with him after this.

“Gimme.” He plucks your phone out of your hands so he can order his own pizza. With the utmost concentration, he scrolls and types in some things. No doubt using your pre-set credit card to pay for it. “Wait,” he says, sitting up straight. “Whoa, you’re friends with Yoongi? As in Min Yoongi? The guy who won this year’s mock court?”

Gasping, you dart over to grab the phone from him. “Don’t go through my messages!” With one hand on your chest, he manages to keep the device out of your reach. “Jungkook!”

His eyes move over the screen, reading your messages with the third year law student. “Why didn’t you just ask him for help, huh? He seems to like you, and that’s something. I don’t think Yoongi likes anybody.”

You try harder to grab your phone from his hands. It must look insane, your body bent over his, him trying to find ways to hold you off and keep the phone out of your reach. Somehow, you end up squashed between his—way too strong—thighs.

“Jungkook give me my phone back!” you whine.

Something on the screen makes him raise his eyebrows. “Are you two like—you know? Cuz I’ve heard some stuff and—”  

You shake your head, getting uneasy with the fact that he’s really reading your personal messages. “I don’t like Yoongi like that.”

Jungkook lifts his leg, using his knee to push you back. He’s got way too much strength in his body. “Okay, but I’m not sure that he knows that. He’s not a nice guy, you should steer clear of him.”

“Oh, and you would know how? It’s not like you’re such a gentleman.” Again, you try to jump for your phone, but he stops you in time by grabbing your wrist.

Face serious, he holds your gaze. “I’m not kidding. We run in the same circles. He’s a total asshole, you don’t want to get involved with him. You can do better.”

That sure is a way to silence you. You frown, settling back into your seat as Jungkook keeps scrolling through the chat. “I’m not into him, but he’s been texting me for a while. I was in his group for mock court.” Finally, you get your phone back, but your stomach feels uneasy looking at it. Perhaps Yoongi’s messages are a bit forward.

“I don’t know Yoongi well enough to be able to say for sure, but I know enough to tell you that he doesn’t talk to girls like you because he wants to be friends,” Jungkook says with a hand lingering on your thigh.

Way to make you feel good about yourself, Jeon. “What does that mean, girls like me?”

His face changes, eyes wide.

“What are you trying to say?” you press.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he leans forward onto his knees. “All I’m saying is that you don’t deserve to get played by some asshole who’s just trying to get into your pants.”

“Oh.” Is he being for real? He’s looking out for you? This is not how this is supposed to go. Jungkook shouldn’t be nice to you. He shouldn’t be helping you, or care about your wellbeing. He’s a dick and the two of you squabble and yell at each other. Yet, your chest warms at his words. Even if you weren’t looking to get together with Yoongi, it’s good to know he might have alternative motives. “Thank you.”

All he does is nod, before he grabs his laptop to resume where you guys left off. The awkwardness slowly dissipates as he takes you through the entire lineup thing again, just so you’ve got it down. After that you move onto the remaining subjects.

Today sure is strange. You never expected things to be so comfortable with Jungkook. Despite his exasperating personality and your on and off bickering, his presence is pleasant. It doesn’t take long for you to sink into the couch, drinking your third large cup of coffee.

Completely focussed on his monologue, you ask questions very sparingly, enraptured by him. You knew he was smart, he passes his classes with grades of 80% or higher for a reason. However, it’s different to see it in action.

Pizza arrives a little late, much to Jungkook’s dismay. Turns out he’s quite cranky when he gets hungry. He devours his pizza way faster than you can get through half of yours, and he’s quick to inch towards a slice from your box. You smack his hand away, reminding him of how he slandered you for your topping choice. He can have your leftovers from yesterday

“You call this pasta?” he questions in a disgusted tone, crouched down by the fridge

“Take it or starve. Your choice.”

He gets up, nose scrunched. “I’d rather starve, thanks. What exactly do you excel at? Since it’s not school, wit, or cooking.”

“Aim,” you spit, flicking a piece of pepperoni at him. It hits him straight in the cheek and you burst out into a fit of laughter. He stares at you in utter disbelief, removing the greasy piece of meat from his face. Tongue pressed to his cheek, he fights off his own smile—or an insult.

Eventually, he sits back down and goes over the remaining material while you eat. The end comes faster than you expected, his eyes darting to the clock.

“It’s getting late, I should probably go home.”

“What?” You pout. “How can you leave me to my own devices like this?!”

“Because I did what I could. I took you through all the material, now it’s up to you to try and memorise it. I’ve sent you my summaries and I’ll leave my flashcards here.” He grabs his things, meticulously stuffing them back into his backpack. With a heavy heart, you hand him his cap that had fallen to the floor.

Jungkook pushes his hair back, putting his cap on. He looks as nonchalant as he did when he came in. Backpack slung over one shoulder, hand shoved into his pocket. “Good luck. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you mumble. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad my presence was enjoyed.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I only endured you because I want to pass.” Part of that is true. Though, he wasn’t as bad to hang out with as you had originally assumed. Maybe it’s because his friends aren’t around to show off to. Or because he genuinely wanted to help. Which is still weird. “Good luck to you too.”

He waves you goodbye, opening up the door, only to be met with a gust of wind. The sound of rain enters your apartment. Water plummets from the sky by the bucket.

“Shit,” Jungkook peers outside, hesitating in the doorway. “If I don’t show up tomorrow morning, please assume that I have drowned.”

You would’ve laughed at the idea of him getting soaking wet any other day. He came here to help you study and now he has to walk home through the rain. No doubt he’s going to catch a cold dressed the way he is. Maybe you should listen to Taehyung and be the better person for once.

Getting up, you pull him back inside by the string of his backpack. “You can’t go out when it’s like that, you’ll get sick.”

He turns with a smile. “As much as I would like to see you squirm a little longer, I need to study too.”

“You study?”

“How else do you think I get good grades? Eat books for breakfast?”

You shrug. “We can study together tonight?”

Stepping closer, Jungkook forces you back inside. Almost nose to nose. Your heart skips a beat when his breath fans over your face. “Is this just a lame excuse from you to spend more time with me?”

“No. But I can only imagine the tragedy that will befall me if you catch a cold because you were out here helping me study.” You poke a finger into his chest. A grave mistake, it’s way firmer than you’d thought. “If I let you stay over, you no longer owe me one.”

“I’m sorry, but it really sounds like you just want me to stay.” Jungkook inches closer, backing you against the couch.

You open your mouth to say something when your phone rings. Looking over to where it lies on the couch, you see Taehyung’s name displayed. He can wait. You glance back up at Jungkook, who’s nearly chest to chest with you, and also has his eyes locked on the phone.

Then, he grins.

You act fast, snatching the phone from the couch and declining the call before he even gets a chance to touch it. Taehyung really doesn’t need to know that Jungkook is here.

Jungkook himself, however, picks up on this. He chuckles lightly, arching his eyebrow. “Are you trying to hide the fact that I’m here?’”

“I wouldn’t say I was trying to hide it, but I really don’t need my friends to think I’m hanging out with you.”

Jungkook drops his bag in the chair again, curious glint in his eyes. “And why is that?”

“Because,” you start, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t want to be associated with the likes of you.”

“What am I now? A villain?”

“No, you’re a stuck up fuckboy who does nothing but party and sleep with random girls and yet somehow still manages to pass all his classes. You’re annoying, egotistical, insufferable, pushy, invasive and disrespectful.”  You let out a deep breath. Yeah, maybe Jungkook’s been nice to you today, but he hasn’t changed.

He rolls his eyes. “Well then. I’ll have you know that you are nothing more than an average, boring girl struggling to get by. You’re opinionated, crass, entitled, standoffish, a bad listener, impossibly stubborn and a bit of an airhead.”  The words leave him as if they mean nothing. “It’s not like I’d want to be associated with the likes of you either. But here I am, stranded because of the storm. So you, my dear, are stuck with me tonight. You did offer for me to stay over, after all.”

“Whatever,” you breathe, “let’s just try to study.”

The two of you return to your previous position on the couch, but now, he faces you. With the flashcards in hand, Jungkook reaches into his bag and pulls out a container filled with Maltesers.

The rules are simple. You take turns asking each other questions. If you get it right, you get a chocolate, you get it wrong the person who asked the question gets a chocolate. Easy enough, right? Now that you feel a bit more steady with the material, you should be able to answer some questions correctly. Even if it’s just to rob Jungkook of the satisfaction of eating the entire thing on his own.

Two questions in and the bickering starts. Jungkook’s whining because he’s cold and you can’t turn up the radiator. But since he was the one to leave the door open, it’s his fault that it’s so cold in here to begin with. You’ve long hogged the blanket for yourself and you don’t intend on sharing it. It’s the only barrier that’s keeping you from touching his feet.

“Please,” he pouts. “I’m so cold, you can’t let me freeze to death in this fucking igloo.”

You pull the blanket closer. “No. It’s mine.”

He whines. “Come on, it’s big enough for both of us. It’ll be warmer if we share.”

“No.”

“You do realise I could just take it from you by force.”

“You would not.”

He sits up straighter, putting a hand on the edge of the fabric. “I’m giving you the option now. Either you share, or I’m pulling it from your cold, grabby hands. If you’re just afraid to snuggle with me, you can just say so.”

In order to not admit defeat, you give up half of the blanket so he can shove his legs under it. He extends his legs way past his side of the couch, his feet touching your lower back. You have no choice but to fold one of your legs over his, the other extended by his side. Indeed, it’s warmer this way.

“Now, where were we?” He flips to his next card. “Ah, yes. Weapon focus effect.”

That one you remember clearly. “It’s when a witness’ attention was so focused on the weapon present at the incident that they fail to remember any significant details about the perpetrator. It’s an involuntary process that often leads to inaccurate descriptions of the attackers.” You definitely got that one, no doubt. It’s easy.

Jungkook throws you a chocolate. “Good job, you���re doing well. It seems you listened to what I had to say after all.”

“I mean,” you say, popping the chocolate into your mouth. “I didn’t have that much of a choice but to listen, now did I?”

“You were visually undressing me the entire time. I had assumed your mind was busy with...other things.” He’s doing it on purpose, trying to get some type of reaction from you. Instead, you just bite your lip, not knowing what to say. “Oh, was I right? Tell me, what were you thinking about.”

You let out a sound, throwing a pillow at him. “I wasn’t thinking anything. And I wasn’t undressing you.”

“No, you were thinking of how big my head was, right? Would it,” he pauses, lifting up the blanket to peer underneath, “fit between your thighs?”

“What is wrong with you!” You scream, hands covering your face that quickly turns red.

He laughs in return. “You’re so easily flustered. I’d almost call it cute.”

Peering through your fingers, you frown. “Almost?”

“Yeah, almost. Not quite, because you’re still you.”

In a surge of confidence, you sit up straight and grab the stack of cards again. Not looking at him as you speak. “How about, instead of imagining what I taste like, you tell me what a flashbulb memory is.”

Inches away from choking on his spit, Jungkook doesn’t manage to come up with a smart retort. He just answers your questions with pursed lips and distant eyes. It’s correct though, so you get to throw him a chocolate. Which of course, he catches with his mouth. Show off.

It goes on for another while, storm raging outside. With the winds turned, you can now clearly hear the pattering against your window. You can’t imagine what Jungkook would’ve done had he been walking through this storm. It’s only getting worse.

Time ticks by fast. Soon, Jungkook is left with one last flashcard in his hands. And you are determined to get that last chocolate. He smirks to himself, probably aware that you don’t know the answer to this. But if anything, you are determined to prove him wrong.

“Tell me,” he trails, “what is the difference between compliance and suggestibility?”

You know this. He’s explained it three times. So you’re confident in your next words. “Compliance is when a witness giving a testimony willingly accepts a suggestion but is aware that the suggestion is wrong. Suggestibility is when they believe that the suggestion is right and thus take it for the truth. Both are problematic, but suggestibility is harder to expose.”

Jungkook tuts. “You got them switched around.”

“Huh?! That can’t be right!”

“Sure is, the last chocolate is mine.”

You snatch the bag away before he can grab it. “I don’t think so. Let me see that card.”

“Are you accusing me of lying?”

“For chocolate? I sure am. Let me see.”  You crawl over to his side, squishing yourself between him and the couch. “Jungkook,” you whine when he covers the card with his hand, “let me see. My grade depends on this.”

He chuckles at you. “It does not. I’m confident that you will pass regardless.”

You try to pry the card out of his hand, but it’s no use. The grip he has on the thing is too strong. He manages to hold you down without even breaking a sweat. It’s a few beats before you can realise that you’re now entirely pressed up against him. You can feel the muscles in his thighs shift, the soft skin of his arm against yours

“Let me have the chocolate and I will show you,” he whispers.

Flushed, you stop struggling. “Whatever, I know I’m right.”

Jungkook then reveals the card to you, showing you that you indeed, were right. “I’m glad you’re finally confident in your abilities. That’s the key to passing a test.”

Has he really been testing you this entire time? That’s sure one way to do the trick. Without replying, you sink into his side. Silently enjoying his warmth. It’s comfortable to sit like this, now that it’s night and the apartment continues to get colder. You don’t mind, really. Inhaling slightly, you catch a whiff of his fresh floral scent. It’s mixed with a sharp edge that suits him well.

As Jungkook grabs the stack of cards you got wrong to revise them, you don’t move. The two of you just get comfortable like that. It’s easier to see the cards the way anyhow. You can just look at them together. Plus, you’re starting to feel a little sleepy and don’t want to move. He seems equally as content, just reciting the questions and explaining why you got them wrong.

“Okay so,” you say, pointing at something on the card. “It’s not so much an issue on the witness’ side as it is on the police’s?”

Jungkook nods, looking at you. “They’re the ones leading the witness. It’s not the witness’ fault that they take on their opinion.”

You hum, meeting his gaze. He doesn’t falter, almost as if he’s searching your eyes. “Something wrong?”you ask, voice hushed, goosebumps appearing on the back of your neck. There’s a mole right below his bottom lip which is plump and looks soft. His top lip is more defined, making for a cute pout. The more you look, the more you notice all his moles. On his nostril, his cheek, his ear.

“No,” he answers eventually. Voice strained. “I think you have a pimple growing between your brows.”

“Get lost!” You shove your elbow into his side, pulling a pained groan from him. “You’re so stupid.”

For a moment he’s quiet, just rubbing his side and shifting so he can get more comfortable. One of his legs falls off the couch, the other still between yours. “You really hate me, huh?”

At any other given moment, you would’ve replied with yes. But now, it’s laden. Is he asking you that seriously? It’s one thing to tell Taehyung you can’t stand him, or to yell it in his face when he’s being a brat, but you can’t literally say it to him like this. Why, you don’t really know. The expectant look makes your stomach tighten.

“Why are you saying it like that?”

He shrugs. “No reason in particular. Just because,” he gestures at your bodies, “it doesn’t seem like you mind being around me that much. If anything I’d say that,” he stops, leaning in close to your ear. You can feel the barely-there graze of his lips. “You like being around me.”

You bite your tongue, looking up to find his eyes darker than before. Cocking his head to the side, he awaits your answer. You’re not willing to give him the satisfaction. There’s no need to stroke his already big ego any more. Yes, this is more pleasant than you’d expected. Yes, he’s nice to be around. But... “You’re still a pain in the ass. Sorry.” With that, you had expected him to look away, but he doesn’t. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and back up to your eyes.

“So are you,” he teases, lips stretching into a lopsided grin.

Within a heartbeat, your lips are touching. Jungkook groans. You gasp, pulling him closer. Closed eyes, your heart beats a million miles an hour, revelling in the feeling of his mouth against yours. How soft his lips are. The trailing of his fingertips up your neck so he can crane your head back.

He comes to life, parting with a brief look into your eyes and a deep breath. Then, diving in full force. Jungkook kisses you like he’s been waiting to—like he’s hungry for it. You can barely believe that it’s happening, still trying to register that he’s actually kissing you. That it feels this good.

Your entire body kicks into gear when he bites at your bottom lip. Shifting your body to face his, you wrap a hand around the back of his neck. Returning his fervor, your mouths part and tongues meet in a desperate clash. Jungkook lets out a deep, guttural sound that makes you shiver. He’s skilled, tongue swiping over yours in a way that you can barely keep up with. Deliciously hot, just edging on sloppy. There’s no room for pauses, no time for thoughts.

Gaining purchase against the armrest, you swing a leg over his to sit in his lap. Jungkook’s leaning back still, pawing at your waist now that he’s got full access. You take full advantage of the position, crashing into him and devouring him. Biting at his lips, sucking his tongue into your mouth. The feeling is nearly euphoric paired with the rough, firm touches of his hands all over your body.

He touches anything he can find. Gripping onto your thighs and ass, slipping under your tank top and sweater to graze the skin on your back. Sparks erupt everywhere.

Mid-kiss, he sits up. Twisting so he can firmly plant both his feet on the found. It’s the angle he needs to pull you right against him. Your hips make contact and you moan. He’s not quite hard but he’s certainly getting there and the thought makes your head spin.

“Fuck,” you gasp, breaking away for air while he grids his hips up into yours. “Jungkook—”

“No talking,” he mouths against your jawline. “More kissing,” his voice is so  raspy that it’s barely recognisable. Almost a growl.

You push his cap off. Grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him firmly. Angling his head back the same way he had done to you. Kissing him is way better than you could’ve ever imagined. He’s rougher, stronger, harder against your body. You need more.

Slipping your hands under his shoulder, you lift it. Tracing the hard lines of his chest, feeling how he jumps under your touch. It empowers you, makes you bolder. Your fingers reach a pert nipple, brushing over it only to hear him moan in the back of his throat. God, he keeps on getting better and better. Sensitive it seems, as you roll the bud between your fingers. His hips buck up into yours. Fully hard at this point, he must start to get uncomfortable in those jeans.

Jungkook’s resolve with kissing you slows, needing air. He breaks away with a smirk, cheeks flushed and panting. Holding your gaze steady, he pulls his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. Revealing planes of unmarred skin and tattoos you had yet to discover.

You take no shame in staring, reaching out to trace the dream catcher on his shoulder. Moving along the lines of thread and feathers that reach his elbow.

“Like what you see?” he whispers, pushing you closer with a hand on your lower back just so he can kiss your neck. You shiver, legs spreading. Leaning your head back to give him enough room to mark you up. The thought alone makes you whimper. “What’s that?” he mumbles, licking a hot stripe up your throat.

Fingers digging into his shoulders, you grind down onto him. He moans in response. “Stop being so smug.”

Jungkook throws his head back, looking at you through his lashes as you gyrate your hips more firmly. His body on full display. “I don’t know, it seems like you’re into it.”

“For fucks sake, shut up and kiss me.”

He listens, capturing your mouth with his. Everything moves fast after that. Between tongues and mouths clashing, Jungkook rids you of your sweater. He kisses down your neck and throat, leaving marks and enjoying the way that you quiver for him. You’re soaking through your leggings at this point. Jungkook’s doing no better.

When he pulls away, you take the opportunity to kiss down his neck, collarbones and chest. To get off his lap and kneel between his legs. His eyes widen as you do so. A hand immediately comes up to push your hair aside, tipping your chin upwards. When he traces his thumb over your mouth, you part your lips and swirl your tongue around the digit and bite down, making him hiss.

Spreading his legs to accomodate you, he relaxes against the cushions. Just like little pricks on the edge of your consciousness, you feel the nerves. You question your skills when you undo his jeans and pull them down his legs. Yet, the hazy look in his eyes tells you that he’s going to like this no matter what. He all but arches into you when you palm him through his underwear. Rock hard and leaking through the fabric, you don’t want to wait any longer to finally get your mouth on him. To hear him moan for you.

So you reach past his waistband, foregoing any teasing and pull the fabric down. His cock slaps up against his stomach, making him hiss again. The sight is gorgeous. Jungkook with his head thrown back, hair a mess, chest heaving and flushed even though you’ve barely touched him. It’s satisfying to know you did that to him.

You sit down on your knees, holding him in one hand and go slow. Mouthing at him first, giving him just a taste of what’s to come. He doesn’t hold back for you, reddened lips parting with all the noises he lets out. When you take the tip into your mouth, he jolts—groans and reaches to anchor himself on your shoulder. You have one hand on his thigh, the other around the base. That way, you steady yourself when you sink down on him.

“Don’t—Fuck, keep going.” A gentle hand winds into your hair, guiding you further onto his cock. You’re not usually one to do this but, seeing him feel this good spurs you on. It makes you want to take all of him. You don’t stop when he hits the back of your throat, gag reflex kicking in. He moans at the feeling, so you try to swallow. “Shit, fuck, don’t do that. Your mouth,” he pants, “so good.”

Feeling his grip loosen, you pull up, taking a deep breath when you let him out of your mouth. Spit dribbles from your mouth to the head, tears sting at the corners of your eyes. You look up, giving him the full vision, and you don’t look away when you sink down again.

You’re so wet. Core aching but unable to find any sort of relief. You end up trying to grind your hips without any payoff. Meanwhile, you start a steady rhythm. Hollowing out your cheeks and using your tongue on the underside. It works. You have him moaning out your name in seconds. His hand tightens in your hair again, not to force you, but spurring you on to take him a little deeper each time. Right until your nose hits his stomach. You hold there, to let him feel the flex of your throat one more time. Just so he remembers it. Then you take your rhythm back up, a little faster, a little tighter. Your jaw starts to hurt, but it’s worth it. To feel his thighs start to tremble and his stomach clench. How he tightens his hold on your hair, moans pitching every time you pass your tongue right under the head.

Your lungs are burning, but you can’t help but feel addicted to him. Sucking him harder and feeling him near that edge. You dig your nails into his thigh, breathing in through your nose. Jungkook’s hip start moving just a little, enough to startle you.

“‘M close,” he moans. “Fuck, can I—in your mouth. Shit.” He runs a hand through his hair, browns furrowed deep. When he opens his eyes you shiver. His lids are heavy, pupils blown and cheeks red. Just like his lips—he sinks his teeth into his bottom one when you resume.

He takes it as a yes, unable to stop his hips from pushing up. You let him take control, holding yourself still, hands on his thighs. Jungkook’s breathing picks up, moans mixing into one drawn out sound. You meet his eyes, mouth stuffed with his cock. That’s all he needed. He twitches and cums into your mouth. The taste is bitter and harsh on your tongue. You close your eyes, focused on the feeling of his body trembling. You’re the one who did that to him.

When he lets you go and you pull off him, he gives you a fuck-out yet expectant look. A cocky arch of his eyebrow when he sees your bulged cheeks. Waiting for you to swallow.

Instead, you reach for his mug that sits on the edge of the table and spit into it. Flinching at the leftover taste.

Jungkook nudges you with his knee. “Why are you like this?”

You set his cup down and reach for your own, take a big gulp of now-cold coffee. “I’m not swallowing your jizz.” The thought of doing that alone makes you want to puke.

“Don’t call it that.”

Rolling your eyes, you stand up on wobbly legs. “I just had it in my mouth, so I can call it whatever I want.”

Jungkook mimics your eyeroll. “Fine.” He pats your thigh. “Pants off.”

“What?”

He lies down on the couch. Surely he doesn’t expect you to ride him after you just fucked up your throat for him? What an ass. “You heard me, naked now. Chop chop.” He motions for you to hurry up and you just give him a blank stare. “Ugh, come here.”  Jungkook sits up just slightly again and pulls you closer by your waistband. He gives you a brief look. “Unless you don’t wanna get naked?”

You chuckle, pushing at his hands to get him to slide your leggings off. A hand slips between your thighs to touch you. Rubbing you through the fabric, your knees nearly buckle. He’s nonchalant about it, lying back, eyes focused between your legs. Yet, he’s too accurate, easily finding his target.

“Jungkook,” you whine, grabbing onto the back of the couch.

He smirks. “Let’s take these off too.” The snap of your panties to your hip pulls you back. You shove them down, taken aback by the feeling of a hand grabbing your thigh. You’re about to question him, when he scoots further back on the couch and lifts your leg past his body. “Have a seat.”

Mind absolutely blank, you let him guide you to sit over his face. You’re dripping and he can see it—feel it probably from the way you just grazed his chest. A small moan leaving your lips when he reaches up to kiss your stomach.

“Don’t be shy,” he chuckles. “I’ve got you.”

You shift forward, holding onto the back of the couch. His hands come up to your thighs, pulling you even higher so he can slot his mouth onto your core. You can’t help but moan.

Noisy. Jungkook is so noisy. He sucks your lips into his mouth, teethes at them until you’re shaking. You struggle to hold your hips still, the need to grind into him too strong. And he does nothing to stop you. No, he urges you on. Looking up at you with those big eyes and nodding against you. Jungkook opens his mouth, tongue darting out to tease at your clit just briefly. Then, the reigns are all yours.

He holds you by the hips so you can hesitantly start moving. You shiver. It feels so good; the wet warmth of his mouth against your core. He follows you, hands pawing at your thighs, hips, and ass. With eyes closed, Jungkook eats you out like he’s been dying to do it. There’s no teasing, no playing—he’s straight to the point. You move over his tongue as he sucks on your cunt, nibbling and flicking whenever he gets the chance. Anything else is irrelevant. The sight of his head blissed out between your thighs is all you can focus on.

The pleasure spikes, shooting up your spine and filling you with warmth. It’s embarrassing how fast he gets you on the edge. How good he is. The way he occasionally stops you to take that bundle of nerves between his lips and suck on it until you’re screaming—it’s mind blowing. Your entire body is on fire, sweat drips down your back. His name falls from your lips in cries that echo throughout the room. Louder than the storm raging against the window.

“Jungkook, I’m—” you pant, unable to finish your sentence with the moans that he pulls from you. Incapable of thinking from the second he swirls his tongue around your entrance and presses inside. You halt all your movements. Nails dug deeply into the couch, you reach for his hair with your other hand. He moans when you grip it tightly, his own fingers tightening around your hips. “Don’t stop.”

He alternates between fucking his tongue into you and sucking on your clit. The intensity is almost too much. The irregularity keeps you on your toes and has you nearly teetering over the edge. You just need to—Jungkook reaches behind you and plunges two fingers into your sopping core. The sensation of being filled along with his tongue flicking over you has your eyes rolling back. Everything goes white.

You double over on the couch, unable to keep yourself up and smothering him in the process. Trembling in his hold, he helps you slowly ride out your high. Short, gentle movements against his mouth. The rocking of your hips is as involuntary as the way your body keeps shaking when he lets you go. Breath high in your throat, you chuckle.

“Good god.” You fall down when he slips out from underneath you.

As you twist towards him, Jungkook wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, crawling over you. All your limbs still feel like jelly, your mind swimming. “Yeah, that good?”

You hum, eyes closing. Wanting to lie down, you turn on your back, hearing a sharp thud.

“Shit,” Jungkook gasps. He’s grasping his chin with a laugh.

A few seconds pass before you feel the soreness in your knee. “Ugh, I’m so sorry,” you whine, reaching up to touch him. But he has other plans. Jungkook surges down smiling, pressing your mouths together for the first time in what feels like hours. The stickiness on his face doesn’t go unnoticed. The reminder that he just ate you out, that he’s the one who made you cum that hard. You moan when you taste yourself on his tongue.

He kisses you deeply, smiling against your mouth. You finally get rid of your tank top, now fully naked. He mouths over your chest, twisting your nipples, spreading your legs so that he can fit between them. Pressing himself against you, hard and waiting. “Can you go again?” he asks, pulling away and searching your eyes.

You still feel floaty, but the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your thigh has you quivering. “Yeah.”  You’re aching to feel him inside, so you tilt your hips up towards him. Spreading your legs wider and inviting him.

“Wait,” you blurt, eyes flying open and pressing a hand against his chest. He stops with his hand around his dick, just about ready to slide home. “Condom.”

Jungkook curses, looking around the room. He locates his jeans that lie in a pile with his shirt and boxers. The fact that he’s actually got a condom in there is uncanny.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?”  You joke.

He shrugs. “I wore these jeans while going out last night.”

“You’re disgusting!” You slap his arm lightly, but he just chuckles in return. He knows just as well as you do that you’re waiting for him to fuck you. The clenching of your core attests to that.

No time is wasted, Jungkook puts the condom on and lines himself up. “You good?”  

You nod. “Just go slow.”

The slight oversensitivity just makes it feel even better. He stretches you out so perfectly. You feel every inch, every stutter of his hips as he goes deeper. Way deeper than you’d expected. Until his hips meet yours and he curses, burying his face into your neck.

“You feel good,” he mumbles, kissing your skin.

“You too.” Trailing your fingers up his back, you wait for your body to adjust to him. To feel yourself relax and pull for more. That tell-tale need for movement, friction. Jungkook holds steady, hips barely moving. “Go,” you say when your stomach clenches. “Move. Fuck me like you mean it.”

Jungkook growls, grasping onto the couch. Pulling out and slamming back in full force. You slide up the cushions, so fast you grasp onto him for support. Fingernails digging into his back, legs wrapping around his waist, you keen at the pleasure. Each thrust is better than the last. Harder, more precise.

Your back arches off the couch, mouth agape. Pleasure is constant, like your body is vibrating with it. Jungkook mouths at your neck, sucking, biting—teeth playfully tugging at your ear just to whisper something dirty that you can barely comprehend. Your mind can’t make sense of anything but his dick pumping inside of you. His hips slapping against yours and his mouth against your skin.

Until he kisses you. His mouth messily connecting with yours, movements slowing. With a hand on your ass, he hikes you up the couch, angling your body so that he can press your legs to your chest. Just like that, he picks up. Starting off slow, still kissing you, tongue laving over yours almost sweetly. You shiver, the slow drag of his cock as delicious as the harsh assault. He changes angles, just a hair, but it’s enough for him to graze that part inside of you that makes you see stars.

Throwing your head back, you moan. Fingers sliding through the sweat on his back, up to tangle into his hair, gripping tight. He groans. Head falling onto your shoulder, hips stuttering against yours.

“You like that?” you whisper into his ear, tongue darting out to flick at a pierced lobe.

He nods, teeth sinking into your shoulder as you pull hard. Hips picking up, chasing the pleasure.

Hearing him moan like that. So unabashed and loud, only adds to your pleasure. Toes curling, you close your eyes and let your head fall back. Hips meeting him thrust for thrust, helping him reach even deeper inside of you. To hit that spot every single time. Jungkook has perfected that balance between smooth and hard. Never slamming rough enough to jolt you, yet firm enough to make you capable of sounds you were unaware of. Rhythmic, never stopping or slowing. So constant you can’t do anything but fall into motion with him.

Bodies syncing up. Hands finding places to touch.  Nipples, lips, thighs, waists, hair. He is holding you spread open for him, your thighs starting to ache. But it’s worth it, because soon, you feel the pleasure spike.

Your stomach tightens, tingling at the base of your spine. “Jungkook,” you moan.

He answers by looking up, lips bitten red and parted.

“Can you,” you can’t finish the sentence, moaning and closing your eyes. Tapping his hand on your thigh is enough though. He releases you, instead pulling your legs around his waist. Closer like this, his chest slides over yours. It gives you just enough space to reach between your bodies and touch yourself.

He looks down at the sensation, cursing at the sight of your fingers playing with your clit while his cock slides in and out of you. The angle doesn’t let you do the same, but you can hear the slick slide clearly. You can feel it dripping down your ass.

The added pleasure is enough to put you on the edge, fast. “I’m gonna—Jungkook!” you yelp when he leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. “Fuck.” One hand between your bodies, the other holding his hair.

In seconds, your high hits you. Hard. Your entire body locks up, so much that Jungkook lets out a strangled moan. Fluttering around him he joins you in your peak. Thrusts stilling, pressed deep inside of you. He spills into the condom as you rut your hips, still coming down.

Spent bodies collapse onto the couch, Jungkook refusing to pull out immediately. He’s basking in the feeling of your aftershock, walls still clenching ever so slightly. You can’t blame him. It feels good. Having him inside of you as he lies down, pulling your hips against his, kissing you. His mouth is tender, laving over yours without much hurry. A hand combing through your hair, softly humming, smiling.

He finally pulls out, leaving you feeling empty and slightly sore. Grunting, he ties the condom and makes a show of throwing it into the same mug you used earlier. It makes him grin.

“I’m throwing that mug out.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“Oh, I really do. It’s been tainted beyond remedy. I’m not drinking from that, ever again.”

Jungkook presses his nose against your temple, still grinning like a fool. “You’re so weird.”

You snort. “Says the guy who just three-point shot a condom into a mug full of cum.”

No reply follows, only comfortable silence. Jungkook and you just lie like that for a while. Bodies coming down, breaths evening out, enjoying each other. Slightly sticky with sweat, you let him grab the blanket and throw it over you. Your heart swells.

Could it be possible that you’re not the only one who feels something more? Deep down, you’ve always known he’s not just an asshole. You’ve just never seen that side of him before today. All this time you’ve tried to ignore it. To not let yourself fall for that trap. A guy like him isn’t supposed to be good. Yet, maybe you were wrong about him. And maybe, he feels the same way about you.

Taehyung isn’t gonna let you hear the end of this, but you can’t help but wonder if there is an opportunity for more between you and Jungkook?

“You know,” he says after a while, “We should definitely do this again.”

Your heart shatters. That’s it. Reality crashing down on you. Of course Jungkook doesn’t feel anything for you. He’s just out for sex and you should’ve known.

You scramble up from the couch. Jungkook sputters out something you can’t quite catch, trying to grab a hold of you. “Don’t touch me,” you spit. “I can’t believe you.” Grabbing your panties and pulling them on alongside your sweater, you put distance between the two of you. “Is that what I am to you? Just another cunt to fuck?”

Jungkook’s hastily putting on his boxers, standing up, eyes wide. He opens his mouth, but you don’t care to listen.

“That’s why you were really here, right? To get into my pants. That’s why you had the condom on you.” It’s all falling together now. How could you have been so stupid? “All the fucking whining about Yoongi, but you’re no better than him.”

“Stop,” he rushes, shaking his head. “Listen to me—“

“Don’t!” you call when he reaches for you, grabbing you by the wrists and forcing you to look at him. You try to wriggle away, but he’s holding you steady.

“Listen,” he tries again. “I—“

You shove at his chest. “Let me go, Jungkook. Fucking let me go.”

He obeys, arms falling limply beside his body. Expression going soft when he sees you’re crying. “Please hear me out.”

“No, Jungkook. You don’t get it. I have feelings for you. Real, non-sexual feelings. I don’t just want to be another girl on your checklist.” There it is. Out with the truth. Your breaths come out short and ragged. Harshly wiping your tears, you grab your leggings off the floor. Jungkook just stares at you. “I was stupid to fall for this act.” It’s true. He doesn’t date. Sex. That’s it. You should’ve known, you should’ve protected yourself. Should’ve never let him weasel his way into your heart.

Jungkook deflates, head falling, hair shielding his eyes. “I’m sorry that you think of me this way.”

What a pretentious prick. “Forget it Jungkook, I’m not buying it.” You look outside, rain still pouring down the window. “You know where everything is. I want you out before sunrise.” You turn your back on him and storm into your bedroom, slamming the door closed.

The contents of your cabinet click, something falling to the floor. Your tears only get worse. Feeling the cold of your room wrap around your worn out body. To feel the remnants of him still cling to your skin. The marks, the soreness, and the scent. God, you’re so dumb. You want to call Taehyung, to hear his voice and have him comfort you. But it’s two in the morning and his sleep schedule is shaky enough as it is.

So you just opt for a shower, stripping and getting under the hot spray to wash away whatever you can. You douse yourself in your favourite clementine scented body wash. But it does nothing to clean the fresh tears. Nothing can. The realisation that your feelings for Jungkook had gone way past crush hurts. You let your guard down and he drove a knife into your back.

Sleep, you think. You need sleep. You need to rid yourself of these thoughts and feelings. Wake up tomorrow and just pretend like this never happened. Even if you know it’ll be evident. You can pretend.

You dry off and brush your teeth. Three times to be precise. Ending up in bed wrapped in your favourite teddy sweater, warm and cosy. Your chest still aches with tears that no longer fall. Heart heavy. Like you miss him close to you.

There’s not much you can do but close your eyes and will your mind to shut off. You don’t want to think about him anymore.

The creaking of your door opening startles you right as you’re drifting off. He better be joking. You refuse to move, holding tightly onto the blanket, hoping that he’s just checking in on you and will leave. You hear the door click closed, and then the bed dips.

You hold your breath. Jungkook doesn’t speak. He lifts the covers so he can scoot under them and pull you against his chest. It’s not a tight hold, but it’s there. A strong arm draped over your waist, legs grazing yours as you pretend to be asleep. The feather-light gaze of his lips against your neck makes fresh tears appear in your eyes.

“Jungkook,” you croak.

He shushes you. “I know you’re upset with me. I just don’t want you to be alone when you’re feeling like this. We can talk in the morning—if you want. For now, just get some rest.”

It’s true. You shouldn’t be alone, crying yourself to sleep. Even if he’s the one that caused it. You just don’t want to let yourself trust the gesture. He’s probably trying to make you feel less angry. Even if it doesn’t work, it’s appreciated, ill intent or not. Having someone here is calming, letting you fall into an unruly slumber.

The next morning, you wake up in his embrace. Closer, back pressed to his chest. His nose nuzzles into your hair. It’s so nice. Warm. Soothing. He’s a good cuddler.

Then, your entire body stiffens. The previous night coming back to you in flashes. Your bodies entwined on the couch, moans bouncing off the wall. You swallow tightly, lifting his arm.

“Hey,” Jungkook whispers. He must’ve already been awake, reaching for your hand and giving it a small squeeze. “Should I go?”

Yes. “No,” you mumble. You need answers. To make the story whole before you force him out of your life for good.

“Do you want to—”

“Why do you always act like such a dick around me?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Because you won’t give me the time of day otherwise.”

You still, practically holding your breath so that you can hear every word.

“Every time I’m nice to you, you pretend like I don’t exist. When I push your buttons,” he sighs, “that’s when I get your attention.”

Attention? He wants your attention? Your mind’s running circles, afraid to turn around and see the look in his eyes and get swayed. Feel remorse for the pain you hear lined in his voice. That you can feel in the trembling of his hand encasing yours.

“Can you at least say something?” he asks.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He sits up, the mattress shifting and your eyes closing tightly.  “Sit up, please.”  Grabbing your arm, Jungkook gets you to reluctantly sit up and face him. Though you won’t look at him, eyes on your knees that nearly touch his. You notice that he’s still in his boxers, but he’s at least wearing a shirt. He doesn’t force you to look at him when he starts speaking again. “I want to be honest with you.” He toys with the edge of your sheets. “But if you’re not going to listen to the whole story it’s not worth telling you.”

Your heart hammers. Tears threaten to fall. Taking a deep breath gives away your nerves. You want to tell him he can’t ask that of you. That he doesn’t deserve that. But if there’s even a slight chance of a misunderstanding—something your heart hopes for—you have to hear him out. Even if it’ll hurt. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles. He’s nervous too. Breath shaky like his body, nearly curled in on himself. You never thought you’d see him this vulnerable. “Honestly, when I first met you, I was intrigued by you because I couldn’t have you. You just held up your nose every time I as much as looked your way. It made me want to know more about you. And the moment I did, it was over for me. I realised that you’re not just opinionated, crass, and entitled. You’re smart, a hard worker, and you’re such a good friend.”

You finally dare to look up. To see the desperate look in his eyes as he pauses. Shocked.

“I admire you,” he whispers.

“What?” you blurt. “You’re the one with the straight A’s, not me.”

He shakes his head in defeat, biting his lip and looking away. “The only reason I’m getting straight A’s is because I’ve taken these classes before. I’m not like you, I don’t work hard. I should be studying like you.”

You frown. “What do you mean, you’ve done them before? Do you already have a law degree?”

Jungkook avoids your eyes. “When I got out of high school at the age of seventeen, I got into a big university with a scholarship. The full ride. But I was stupid,” he croaks. “I wanted to fully enjoy the college ride. So I studied just enough to get by and dedicated the rest of my time to partying.” He says it like he’s disgusted with himself. Muscles in his neck tightening as he swallows impending tears. “I got arrested for underage drinking and lost the entire scholarship. Everything I had worked so hard for, down the drain.”

The words leave him pained, the regret for his past decisions clear in his eyes. Yet, he’s still here, studying this degree you know most students can’t afford. You have a scholarship too.

“So yeah,” he breathes. “I wish I had a little more discipline like you. I admire that you’re able to put school first. As much as I pretend to hate you just to get your attention, I like being around you. You’re a positive influence on people, including me.”

“So it’s my fault? For judging you?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “No, not at all. As I said, I was being an ass on purpose because I was curious about you. But when I got to know you,” he cocks his head to the side, “feelings happened. I just couldn't find a way to show you the better sides of myself. Which is partially why I showed up yesterday.”

“Huh,” you frown. So he did have ulterior motives? “How does that change anything? You still showed up here to sleep with me.” He’s talking in circles. You feel remorse for him, but you tell yourself to stay strong. His past doesn’t excuse his actions.

“I really wasn’t planning on sleeping with you. I wouldn’t do that to you. There just was no other way to get you to spend time alone with me. I wanted to show you a better side of me, hoping that you’d realise I’m not all bad and maybe would give me a chance.” A chance to what? “I like you,” he adds when you don’t respond, “a lot.”

What? He can’t be serious. After everything that happened.

“But I also care about you. I like being around you—bickering included. I genuinely wanted to help. I know how hard it is to start again, I didn’t want to see you go through that.”

You go silent. Trying to think over his words and not see the bad. To believe that he means it. He did help you after all. He studied with you for hours, never insinuating anything sexual. He was nice, comforting and believed in you. You never asked for any of that. And after all, you kissed him too. You could’ve stopped it. If he had just wanted sex, he wouldn’t be here.

But he is. “Jungkook, I’m so sorry,” you say, grabbing his hand.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. For making you feel used. I should’ve just been honest with you.” Jungkook laces your fingers together. “I know it was a dick move on my side to sleep with you. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

“I played as much of a part in it as you did. So let’s just—how about we call it even. Bury the hatchet?” You cock your head to the side, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand. It won’t be easy, you’ll need to do a lot of thinking, but your heart wants to forgive him. To see more of his gentler side.

He nods, lifting up your hand and pressing his lips against your knuckles. “Sounds good to me.”

The two of you get up after that, even if it’s a little awkward. It’s weird to not be bickering with him. You’re surprised that he actually cleaned the living room last night. There’s not a trace of him left aside from his clothes that are carefully folded on the table. Even that mug is gone.

“What do you want to eat?” you ask, reaching to the top shelve for another mug.

Jungkook comes closer. “Just coffee is okay for now.”

You turn, almost bumping into his chest, blushing heavily. Now that he knows you have feelings for him, he’s enjoying himself just a little too much. Smiling at you while you’re making coffee and some cereal for yourself. You eat in silence, browsing through your phone.

It’s when you get up to clean, that Jungkook speaks again.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing you back by the waist.

“Hi?” You turn around in his grip.

“You know,” he starts, hand coming up to brush your hair behind your ear. “As much as I regret what I said yesterday, I did mean it.”

“What?” You chuckle lightly. “You want to do that again?”

He nods, and you catch a faint redness dusting his cheeks. “I do, a lot of times, if you want.”

You laugh, twisting away from him to put the dishes in the sink. “If that is your way of you asking me to be your girlfriend, Jungkook, then I must say you’re not quite hitting the right angle. Seeing what happened yesterday.” He can’t seriously be thinking you just want him for sex after all that. You start cleaning, even if it’s just to avoid having to look at him and admit that you’re shy. Thinking about what happened last night—the good parts.

Sighing, he turns off the tap that you had just turned on.

“Hey!” You turn it back on, only to have him shut it off again. “What do you want?”

“I’m not saying that I want you to be my girlfriend. I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet.” He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, searching your eyes like he’d done the night before. Like he’s waiting for permission.

You couldn’t resist him even if you tried. So you kiss him, just briefly. “Then what are you ready for, big boy?”

He laughs. “For starters, I would love to take you out for dinner after the exam that’s in,” he looks up at the clock, “six hours.”

You groan, throwing your head back. “Don’t remind me.” It’s probably a wiser decision to take some time to think. See how you feel about this, but dinner won’t hurt. “I will still need some time to think about,” you gesture between you two, “whatever this is.”

“Oh,” his face falls. “Yeah, I get that. I just thought that—since you said you have feelings for me too.” Jungkook pouts. He fucking juts out his bottom lip and you haven’t seen anything more endearing in your entire life. Your heart does a weird little flip, and you know that you’re a goner. Even more so than you had been before last night.

Now you know that he is good. That he is worthy of a chance. So why not give it? Why would you sit around and let your mind think all sorts of negative things about him if you can give him the chance to prove to you that he’s a great guy. As he said, it’s just a date. Not a label. Yet.

When he turns away, you pull him back by his hand, slamming your lips to his. He grunts, both hands coming up to thread through your hair. The kiss isn’t deep. It isn’t anything like the way you kissed last night. It sweeps you off your feet, so tender and warm. When he pulls away, you’re out of breath and you can see the adoration in his eyes. You hope he can see it in yours.

Then, he pinches your butt.

You push at his chest. “Thanks for reminding me that you’re still an annoying brat.”

He chuckles, giving you a peck on the lips. “But you like me that way.”

“Sadly,” you grumble, winding your arms around his neck. “I do.”

Thanks to: @/fallinforkoo @knjkitten​ @yoongs-jeontae​ @wintaejk​ @guksweet​ @rynofpentacles​ @mikroparadise​ @jeonggukkiepabo​ @softlyjiminie​ Requested by: @/fallinforkoo + @hornyjailbonk​ + 3x Anonymous Taglist: @jiminskth​ @teresaisla​​ @yeontanie21​​ @tessanator97​​ @ladyartemesia​ @dayjeons​​ @djasheyash99​​ @the-rise-of-bangtan-boyz​​ @bbangtanlove95​ @zeharilisharaban​ @jungkooksgoodgirl​​ @topanga27​​ @pjmochii​​ @iwanttohitmyself​​ @veryuniquenamegoeshere​​ @bel-abysse​​ @jiminsreads​​ @jungkookspromise​​

© GguksGalaxy 2020 This is a work of fiction and is in no way meant to give an accurate representation of the idols included. Please do not steal, copy, redistribute or take uncredited inspiration from my work. 

[sacredsorceress]

Last Breath || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

summary: You and Peter have been best friends for years, fighting alongside each other as Avengers. When you nearly die, the true feelings you and Peter have for each other come to the surface.

a/n: Peter’s 19 here b/c let’s just pretend infinity war and endgame didn’t happen and it’s 2021 lol. This is also my first time writing in a long time and first time writing for Peter. Feel free to request below!

word count: 3.2k

warnings: mentions of death, blood, fluff, and I guess angsty, crying Peter

masterlist || request here

You had first met your best friend Peter Parker two years ago after you learned you had powers and had been discovered by the Avengers. Being the youngest two of the Avengers and the same age, you and Peter were practically attached at the hip and everyone was aware of it. Whether it was having each other’s backs during missions, helping each other with homework or binge watching the latest sci-fi television show together, you and Peter were inseparable.

As much as you and Peter had tried to convince yourselves that you were only best friends and nothing more, everyone around you could see through that facade. They caught what you two tried to hide from one another- the stolen glances, the jealousy, the stuttering, the getting flustered when anyone brought up the prospect of you two being anything more than friends.

It’s not as if you two weren’t aware of the feelings that you had- you knew you liked Peter more than a friend should- but you weren’t about to tell him and have him laugh in your face, ruining everything you’ve built. So, the two of you lived in less than blissful ignorance, hiding your feelings from one another.

There wasn’t a nice way to put it- during your last mission Peter got absolutely wrecked. Although he had super-human abilities, even he was taking a longer time to recover which meant him staying back at the Avengers Compound while you and the rest of the Avengers went on a mission.

Peter knew that you could handle yourself and admittedly had powers that exceeded his, but he worried about you and tried to beg you to stay behind with him. He hated the idea of you going out and him not being able to have your back. He wouldn’t be able to relax unless he knew you were safe and he wouldn’t be able to keep you safe while you were out fighting and he was confined to his bed.

“Y/n, please.” He begged, tucked under his sheets.

“Peter, they need me.” You insisted.

“Not as much as I need you, though.”

“Oh yeah?” you chuckled at his attempt to implore you to stay.

“Yeah!” He continued. “Who’s going to stay here and look after me? What if I need something? Plus, my leg has been really aching.... so... I think it’s decided! Besides, what would you do if something happened to me?”

You laughed. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, Peter. You’re fine. I’ll be back before you even notice I’m gone.”

Debatable, Peter thought. He always noticed when you were there and especially when you weren’t.

“Okay, but, hear me out-“ He explained. “What if someone tries to attack the Compound? I can’t do anything to protect myself! I could die!”

“You’re not going to die, Pete.” You smiled. “If you die, I’ll kill you.”

That was the last thing you said to your best friend before you left with the rest of the Avengers. You would be lying if you said you were totally fine going on this mission without Peter. You were anything but calm. Sure, the others would have your back, but not the same way Peter did, swooping in at the last moment before someone got to you like he was always looking out for you.

You told yourself you’d be fine. For the most part you were. You could handle yourself and you had a good grip on your powers. You covered others and they did the same for you in return.

You had always heard that no matter how good things were going, it could change in a blink of an eye. One moment you could be kicking ass and the next you could be dead. You thought you knew better. You thought that you had everything covered, but you were so focused on the creatures in front of you, you didn’t even hear the one behind you until you felt the blade go through your abdomen.

It happened so quickly you could barely even process it. As soon as the blade went through you, you heard gun shots and the creature behind you and all those in front of you drop. You didn’t even notice, only moving your shaking hands to your abdomen, feeling the area and pulling them away to see your hands covered in blood.

The next thing you knew Natasha was at your side, noticing your wound and turning back to face you.

“Y/n, listen to me, it’s going to be okay.” She said frantically. You know she meant well but the way she lost her cool let you know that this was definitely not a good situation.

The sharp pain running through you made you lose your balance and collapse into her arms. You heard her speak into the ear piece, telling the others that you were injured and needed to get help ASAP. She continued to try to keep you awake and to assure you that everything would be fine but all you could do was cry back frantically that you weren’t ready to go.

When you began to feel light headed, you heard footsteps and without looking up you knew it was Tony.

Seeing you in your current state, he cursed to himself and looked at Nat. “The kid is going to kill me.”

You know he meant Peter.

“We have to get her out of here. The blade staying in there helped, but there’s only so much longer she can go without a hospital.” Nat said.

You felt Tony kneel besides you, still leaning into Nat’s arms. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You could barely even pay attention to what was going on around you, just thinking about how you could die any second. It happened so quick. Before he could pick you up, coughing up blood and struggling to speak you told him. “I told Peter this morning that if he died, I’d kill him myself.” You laughed. “It’s ironic now that I think about it. He told me not to come. He was right... and so were you.”

Picking you up, to rush you to the hospital, he asked, “Right about what exactly?”

“It feels so stupid now,” You spoke, feeling more blood drip down your chin. “I should have just told him. You were right. I do love him.” Beginning to feel lightheaded again and struggling to breathe, you told him: “If I die, be gentle with him... okay, Mr. Sta-”

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

Peter couldn’t sit still in bed, knowing you were out there fighting and he wasn’t there to protect you. Not being able to put his mind or body to rest, he threw off the covers and began climbing out of bed. Sure, he had a difficult time balancing at first and was walking with a bit of a limp, but he could handle it.

Walking out of his room and into the hallway, he heard muffled voices coming from the room, meaning that at least some of the team had made it back home.

Eager to see you, he stumbled quickly into the main room only to be met with Steve and Natasha. Taken by surprise he attempted to stand up straighter, leaning against a wall for help.

“Mr. Captain America sir,” Peter spoke nervously, still intimidated by the man in front of him, despite the many times he fought alongside him.

Both him and Natasha had grim looks on their faces as he attempted to peek around them in hopes of seeing you or Mr. Stark come in behind them.

“Peter...” Natasha spoke gently, slowly moving towards him.

Peter chuckled nervously, cutting her off. “Hey, where’s Y/n? Or Mr. Stark?”

Nat and Steve looked at each other before turning back to Peter. Steve stepped forward, reaching his hand out to Peter’s shoulder.

Peter glanced nervously from Cap’s hand on his shoulder to his face, asking again. “Where’s Y/n?”

“She was injured. Tony rushed her to the hospital and they’re operating on her now.” Steve spoke plainly.

Peter’s heart rate jumped and he began breathing heavily, looking between Nat and Steve frantically. “Injured? What do you mean injured? Wait, surgery?” His brain was moving a million miles a minute. He could barely comprehend what was going on, fearing the worse.

Nat spoke this time. “There’s not a nice way to put it, Peter. She was...” She pauses looking at Steve. He nods and she turns towards Peter. “She was stabbed. It happened so quick, Peter. There was nothing anyone could have done.”

Peter feels like screaming that there was something that someone could have done- that he could have done if he had only been there to protect you. He knows that Natasha means well but he can’t help but beat himself up, knowing you’re dying somewhere and he never even told you how he felt. He couldn’t bare to think about your body lying in Nat’s arms while you were covered in blood, scared of dying.

As much as he wanted to scream, he could just feel tears coming to his eyes and turned around, rushing back to his bedroom. He could hear the footsteps of Steve and Nat as he slammed the door behind him, wincing as he stripped himself of his clothes, searching for and grabbing his spiderman suit and pulling it on.

“Peter, what are you doing?” He heard Nat speak through the door.

Holding back his sniffles, he flung open the door, pulling the spider-man mask over his face. “I’m going to go see her.”

Natasha, watching as he struggled down the hallway spoke, “You can barely walk! You can’t go.”

He continued.

Cap spoke this time, “Kid, I get it, but there’s nothing you can do. You have to let yourself hea-“

“No!” Peter shouted turning around. The crack in his voice was evident to the two avengers, making his sobbing clear. “I could have done something! If I was there I could have saved her. She wouldn’t be dying right now if I had been there. This is all my fault, don’t you get it? If it weren’t for me getting hurt I would have been able to protect her!”

The three of them stood in silence and when he felt that no one was about to speak, Peter sighed. “I have to go.”

When Cap was about to go after him, Natasha grabbed his arm. If Peter was hell bent on going, it wasn’t worth trying to stop him.

“At least let us take you.” Natasha said. “You’re crazy if you think you can just swing from here to the hospital and you definitely can’t walk.”

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

The whole way there he had beat himself up for not being by your side, thinking of all the ways today could have gone differently so it didn’t have to end with you dying. He was so exhausted from crying, thinking about you, all the moments he shared and praying that he would get to make more.

Making it to the correct spot of the hospital, he saw Mr. Stark now changed out of his iron man suit and into a regular suit, standing outside a hospital room. When he made eye contact with Peter, Peter stopped short in the hallway.

“Take that thing off.” Tony insisted, pointing his finger at Peter’s mask. “I didn’t just donate millions of dollars to this hospital to keep you two’s identity a secret for you to keep that mask on. Come on, let’s go, I can’t take you seriously in that thing right now.”

Peter hesitantly took off his mask, stumbling further down the hallway. Even from far away Tony could see Peter’s tear stained face, red eyes and red cheeks, surely from crying since the moment he found out.

“Is... is she going to be okay?” Peter asked.

“As good as someone who just got stabbed with a blade from an alien planet can be.” Tony spoke before turning to look at Peter, who was visibly distraught. He sighed, wrapping his arm around Peter’s shoulder. “She just got out of surgery. If you trust these doctors... they say she’ll be okay.”

For the first time since Peter found out he felt a weight lift off of his chest and the ability to breathe normally come back to him.

“Really?” He asked, cheerfully.

“Yeah, but-“ Tony continued. “You have to knock this off.”

Peter furrowed his brows. “What do you mean, Mr. Stark?”

Tony sighed. “This.” He gestured between Peter and the room you were resting in. “You two. No more of this little elementary school crush stuff.” Peter felt his cheeks flush. “She thought she was going to die after fighting aliens with her superpowers and the last thing she said was that she loved you. It’s disgusting, honestly.”

Peter didn’t even know how to process this. You were in love with him? You were in love with him! He had had feelings for you for so long that he didn’t even think it was possibly for you to look at him as more than a friend. Not only did you look at him as more than a friend- you loved him. Not only did you love him- you thought you were dying and you spent your last words on him.

“I know you feel the same way so just cut it out and tell her.” Tony spoke.

Peter snapped out of his thoughts and looked back at Mr. Stark. “How did you know?” Peter, realizing he just admitted Mr. Stark was right coughed, embarrassed. “I mean... why do you think so?”

Tony laughed. “You’re a smart kid, Parker.” He placed his hand on one of Peter’s shoulders. “But you’re not that good at hiding it. I mean I can’t even count how many times I caught you checking her out in her suit never mind the other times where-“

“Okay!” Peter yelped. “I get it.”

“Not even just me either,” Tony continued, chuckling. “Everyone and I mean everyone, knows.”

Peter, on the verge of being mortified, shouted again. “Mr. Stark! Please stop!”

Finally Tony stopped, checking his watch, looking back up to Peter. “You’re right. She should probably be awake by now anyway. Why don’t you head in?”

“Are you sure, Mr. Stark? What about you?” Peter asked.

“Well,” Tony clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth. “You’re the one she just confessed her undying love for, so I think she’d rather see you, kid.” He pat him on the shoulder one last time before walking off. “Good luck!”

Peter watched as he walked away down the empty hallway. Holding his mask in his hands, he then turned to the door of the room you were waiting inside. He took a deep breath before opening the door.

His heart shattered when he saw you laying in the hospital bed with your hands folded over your stomach. He hated the idea of you being hurt and it made your near death experience even more real to him.

“Hey, Peter.” You spoke, your voice almost a whisper.

“Hey Y/n.” Peter answers finally looking up from all of the medical equipment you were attached to to instead look at your face.

As he moved closer to sit in the chair besides your bed, he could still see dried remains of blood at the corners of your mouth. He grimaced, piecing the scene together.

“Pete, stop looking at me like that.” You spoke, paused then smirked. “Thanks for showing up in your suit by the way. Nice touch. I can’t believe the spider-man came to visit me.”

Peter smiled but then it faltered. You always knew how to lighten the mood, but he couldn’t help but think about how he was so close to never seeing you again. “You almost died, Y/n.”

“So I keep hearing.” You replied.

“It’s not funny, Y/n.” He spoke seriously, dropping his mask by his side and taking one of your hands. “I- I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re my best friend and other half. I know our lives are really complicated, but I don’t know, you make it better. I can’t help thinking about how you almost died. When they told me what happened I thought I would never see you again, Y/n.”

You let yourself become vulnerable, squeezing Peter’s hand, but before you could even speak, he opened his mouth again.

“Mr. Stark told me about what you said.” He spoke softly, scratching the back of his neck, not meeting your eyes.

You tried to stop your heart from racing knowing you were not only attached to a heart monitor, but that Peter also had super senses. You couldn’t help yourself though. Was it mistake to say all that? To be fair, you thought you were going to die, but now that Peter’s sitting here in front of you, you’re scared he knows about your feelings and that he’ll reject you.

“Oh-“

“I like you. A lot. Maybe more than a lot.” Peter starts rambling before you could even finish what you were saying. “It’s not just because you spent your dying words telling Mr. Stark you loved me either. I’ve liked you- actually now that I think about it- loved you- for a really long time. Probably since I first met you, honestly. It’s not because you’re like this super cool superhero chick either- don’t get me wrong, it’s super... wow- but I love you for you. Even if you had no powers or anything, I would still love you. I know this is probably a lot and maybe you just said that stuff because you thought you were going to die, but I know that I love you an-“

And just like that years of pining for you just spilled out of Peter’s mouth before you cut him off.

“You like me?” You asked again.

“I mean I love you, but uh... yeah.” Peter said slightly flustered.

Not being able to sit up or lean forward too much due to your healing wound didn’t stop you. Hearing his answer was all you needed for you to grab hold of the front of his suit, pull him towards you and kiss him.

Peter was shocked at first, but soon hummed in response, planting his hands on the pillow on either side of your head. When you pulled away you smiled up at him. “I love you too, Peter. I’m sorry it took me nearly dying to say it.”

Peter, trying to contain his excitement, just smiled and kissed you again, savoring every second of it.

Little did the two of you know that outside your room stood some of the rest of your group of the earth’s mightiest heroes, peeking in on your moment with Peter.

“I can’t believe he finally told her.” Nat said.

“What I can’t believe is that she actually felt the same way.” Sam spoke. “You’re telling me that she spent her dying breath on him?”

“What can I say? I taught him everything he knows.” Tony stated confidently as they turned back, watching the two of you through the hospital room window.

Unfortunately for Peter’s sake, they also witnessed him going to place his hands on your waist while kissing you and accidentally grazing your healing wound, causing you to yelp and wince.

“Sorry!” he shouted. “Oh shit, Y/n, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you? I’m so dumb, I’m so sorry-“

The others turned to Tony.

“Okay... well there’s only so much you can do to help that poor kid. That’s not on me.”

[lycianlynx]

cotton guarding from a cotton scoundrel // kurthnaga + chad

goldoanheart​:

Kurthnaga was having a bad week. 

First of all, getting sent to the middle of nowhere in Hoenn was a bad recipe waiting to happen. Especially when you were expected to bring back a well-trained pokemon. Yeah right, there was no way that was ever going to happen within a month. Kurthnaga had spent years training both of his current teams, and he was expected to just grab a random pokemon off the side of a road and return with it in a month? That would never be plausible in a million years, even for the best of trainers.

Second, the Swablu he had managed to find was a complete and utter terror, both the rest of his team, and to him. He didn’t know if it was just a brat or if it didn’t like him, but he didn’t know much longer he would be able to handle trying to train it if it kept running off like this.

Not to mention, it sure is a little scoundrel. Always sniffing around to try and steal pokeblocks from other trainers when he had tried so hard to make his own to fit to its tastes. Well, to be fair, he did understand that point. He wasn’t the best at making them, and usually had someone else make a huge store of them for him before he set off on another one of his journeys. Usually, Almedha or Ena. But he hadn’t been so lucky to be able to catch them during a time that they were free before he had left this time, so he’d had to rely on his own skills. Which were… certainly not adequate enough to please Swablu.

He sure hoped this would at least end up being worth it once he could manage to wrangle it. He had only caught it because he knew that it would eventually evolve into a dragon type, and he did need another addition to his gym team anyway, but if he had known it would be this difficult, perhaps he would have ended up making do with something else. 

Arceus, he needed to find that thing before it got itself into too much trouble.

Trudging through the tall grass, his ears perk up at the sound of a somewhat distressed Swablu, and somehow he knows at once that the little bastard is causing problems for somebody. He stumbles out of the grass to find someone and their Zangoose, Swablu perched on top of the person’s head, cotton and all. Oh, for fucks sake. 

“Excuse me but…” He points at the Swablu - he really needs to give that dumb bird a name - even though the person enveloped in its cotton probably can’t even see him. Hopefully they can still hear though, “I think my little mischievous Swablu has decided to cause trouble for you. Did he make any damages? I can pay you back somehow if he did.”

What a bad week indeed.

Did he make any damages? Boy fucking did he. Chad’s head turns fruitlessly towards the direction of the voice, his hand blindly patting at the mauled piccnic blanket, before giving up and setting to prying the little bugger of a bird pokemon off his head. As grateful as he was that he didn’t get skewered by Zangoose thanks to Swablu, the amount of fluff on his head was starting to get really annoying.

“Look, just,” Fingers wiggle under Swablu’s claws, pry them off one by one, transfers their grip onto gloved hands, instead. “Hold on, gimme a second.”

Just a few more seconds until Chad’s poor head is free of fluff and he can properly survey the absolute mess that is his break spot; Cups flung everywhere, bowls tipped over, the blanket utterly mauled by claw marks, Zangoose sitting to the side sulkily, her hands utterly swaddled in cotton and useless to even attempt to help. Nik is pushing some of the cups back together. At least his backpack’s essentially unharmed, but Lucius isn’t gonna be happy about the blanket…

… Ugh, whatever. This is his fault, anyways, ‘cause he couldn’t get Zangoose under control; She’s practically wild and more his friend instead of his Pokemon, but his point stands. The boy’s eyes scrunch shut as he takse a deep breath, counts to five, then lets out a defeated sigh. He’ll replace the damn thing himself, but the berries that went into the Pokeblocks are another matter…

“… It’s whatever. Noone got hurt, I think.”

He’s serious. It really is whatever, he can gather those again some other time; And it’s not like they completely went to waste. Swablu sits in his arms, surprisingly content, probably basking in the smell of berries perpetually sticking to the boy. Brown eyes squint down at him, irritated and defeated and understanding all at once. “You better have enjoyed those, you jerk.”

Swablu bites the leather of his glove in response. “Hey! I’m not gonna even think about giving you more until you behave!”