#and yes i drank last night but this was not a FUCKING hangover

[the-black-dragons-den]

Me after vomiting from 7 am to noon and not being able to keep even water down:

"Please give me IV fluids"

The Urgent Care phlebotomists (yes 2 of them) after blowing out my first vein and sticking me unsuccessfully twice more):

"This is because you drink alcohol and smoke weed. We can't help you. Go to the ER."

[glassrowboat]

Morning After

Authors note: This includes a variety of my own headcanons on these characters. The reader is gender neutral. This includes only the male harbingers, but I am willing to write one for the chicks too ^^

Capitano.

-The instant you stirred in your sleep, just the slightest twitch, and you were pinned to the mattress with a looming figure above you. His black hair tickled your skin, swaying back and forth from the sudden movement, but that was barely a concern when this man who had been so sweet with you last night was suddenly acting like a switch that flipped off in his brain. All you could tell was one discernable thing after the sudden surprise: there was no escape if he didn't want there to be.

-”Capitano?” You called out, voice hesitant and barely a whisper as fear choked back the ability to speak confidently.

-Immediately the tense nature that had over taken his form fell, shoulders no longer strung together as that soldier who had been pinning you down held you close and started apologizing for startling you.

-He didn't have to say it, he didn't want to, bit for a moment there the Captain had mistaken you for someone that crept into his chambers with ill intent. He's a soldier. War is what he's known for. This caution just comes with the territory.

-To make up for his own actions he makes sure you're well fed, given a hearty breakfast (one a little too big for you to fully eat but he doesn't mind giving you some Tupperware to take it home in) and tea.

-It's just he's a terrible conversationalist, barely talking as he just nods along to whatever you say, making you carry the flow the entire morning as he adds in an occasion “yes, interesting, or no.”

-At least he's handsome under that helmet.

Childe.

-Fell off the bed the moment he saw you, a shout falling from his lips from the surprise of the fall and well, this naked person in his bed.

-Why he didn't expect you to wake up and throw a pillow at his head for being so darn loud when you have a hangover? Well, only Celestia knows. Though he didn't bother to block it, simply accepted getting hit as it didn't even knock him back.. well that is if he didn't play along and dramatically fell down onto the floor.

-”Are you always such a drama queen?”

-”A guy can't play along with a joke?”

-Very sweet, but a little bit annoying as he asks about you in as many questions he can think of. What's your favorite color? What's your job?

-Admittedly Childe has never had a one night stand before so he doesn't know what to do in this position so when you give him a sweet smile and tell him to just to let you get dressed for now he goes to get a stray shirt for you.

-Definitely wants to see you again, and not just in the bedroom.

-”So where do you come from?”

-”Give me five minutes for fucks sake.”

Dottore.

-First off, what? He's aware each harbinger has their own little dedicated fan club, even him…for some reason. Yet for him to willingly bring someone, possibly one of them, to his bed? People aren't allowed in his personal quarters. Hell, he barely uses it himself, opting to sleep on that one couch in the laboratory. So why the switch in his normal behavioral patterns?

-(I personally see Dottore as a virgin so for this dweeb to lose it this way-)

-Admittedly, he's on edge from trying to remember what happened, the haze of sleep, and the shock of seeing someone he apparently trusted enough to bring to bed. It only made sense he was scowling at this sleeping body. It wouldn't be easy enough to just call it a new test subject, use the sheets as restraints to drag this stranger down to his lab and shove them in a cell but..

-Maybe not this time.

-Instead he gets up and throws on some clothes as quickly as possible, making sure to slot his mask in place despite the fact you have very obviously already seen what lies underneath. That and more.

-It has proven more useful than not to use that thing to hide his expressions.

- Depending on if he drank last night and that's what had him indulging in the warmth of another person's body, Dottore would have one of his clones stand by until you wake up. They can deal with the situation from there and take you home while he gets some caffeine in his body. An easy way to rid of a hangover and forget his newfound company.

-If it was a completely sober decision, Dottore no longer has the excuse that he simply got ahead of himself from the drink and would therefore be hostile in response. Unable to put up with this one bit, he would be telling his bed partner to get dressed and head home already so he can get back to work instead of watching over pointless little you.

-Don't try and say anything about possibly being emotionally attached, it would only anger him. Boy is not used to being open or vulnerable with anyone and you suddenly appearing and having held him so close last night would only set him off in the worst of ways.

Pantalone.

-First thing this man notices is he's just not as comfy as usual, somehow this mattress isn't right, he isn't sinking into the soft plush he spent thousands on. Not even his haze of grogginess was enough to make tossing and turning twist his body into comfort. (Goldilocks having motherfucker). So with a steady hand he reaches out to find his glasses on the nightstand, silver chains rattling on the surface as he pulls them close.

-A one night stand isn't an uncommon thing to the regrator, for him it's happened a small handful of times before but it's never something he's typically the better for in the morning. A man of his position caught slinking into a woman's bedroom as they drunkenly grope at eachother was far from a good look. Not to mention you never knew if the individual would keep their mouth shut.

-That has been a problem with one particular individual in the past that has henceforth been ‘dealt with.’

-But the person laying besides him was still conked out and wrapped in a good majority of the blankets the bedding had to offer. Well, a bit of a thief aren't they? Pantalone almost wanted to laugh but kept his mouth sealed shut, already knowing it's best not to wake you.

-Slowly he got up and out of the bed, trying to keep it from creaking too loudy, to put on last night's clothes. He'll take a shower and get changed into something clean later.

-With one last peak towards the stranger he spent the night with Pantalone slipped out of the front door.

Pierro.

-He's confused.

-Now he understands what happened, the sight of you naked and curled up into him is more than enough to make that clear; though your underwear basically on his favorite pillow definitely would have gotten the point across either way. But, like, him? You who look so much younger, livelier compared to what Pierro sees in the mirror every day after five hundred years haunting him.

-Maybe that joke the second made about people liking ‘older folks’ was based on reality.

-Would greedily allow himself to hold you in his arms for a time. It started with him first saying one minute, that's all he'd allow himself. Then that turned into five, then ten, then twenty. Eventually he would barely wish to nudge you awake even though he knows better.

-Don't go getting attached when there's so much left to do.

-When he finally did wake you up he did his best to make sure you wouldn't get startled, softly calling out the name he was given last night. It's just a shame you do, startling as your hand nearly wacked his face from sheer shock. (Though who can blame you? It's not everyday you blearliy open your eyes, vision still blurry as you take in a man with white hair and stars in his- wait is that the fucking Pierro? Oh fuck).

-The type to help you find your clothes and call for a cab so he knows you get home safely.

-Now all that's left is trying to figure out how to hide the hickey you planted on him.

Scaramouche.

-Let's be real here, you're not making it to the morning.

-He had no clue why he was allowing this, allowing a humans lips to fall to his own with such fevered need. In any other situation he'd be pushing them off, telling this person they're a useless worm that shouldn't ever have walked these lands if all they was going to do was use their life to paw at him. Oh but to worshipped was a delight.

-Kisses pressed to the wooden skin of his puppet body like small prayers to the God he will one day be. This is what humans are made for, aren't they? To give their all to a greater being. So readily Scaramouche let himself be tugged along as you pulled him to wherever you pleased, ready to lavish in the attention he so rarely got.

-A human isn't a threat after all.

-Yet when you tugged on his short, pulling them down just low enough for your mouth to eagerly await something filling it, everything took a turn for the worst.

-”Wait a minute, you don't have genitals?”

-And in a heartbeat you were struck with a bolt of lightning that had you dead on the spot.

[blackwomanwriter]

"Mine"

Read: Part I, Part II

It's been a minute, but I finally wrote something. And of course, I had to go back to this series because there is something about Thomas Shelby. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and let me know your favorite part. Happy Reading!

He entered quietly like he was on a mission. Although this one was unlike the ones he had performed during the war and after. No, this mission was different. Very different. Yet, Tommy performed it with the same intensity.

Eyes narrowed on the quiet interior, clocking each entry point and exit way, like a soldier, he assessed his environment. He hadn’t been in a house this small since his childhood. Even back then, the space had felt cluttered and cramped. Too noisy to think. Too busy to breathe. The stench of his father’s hangover in the air before it disappeared altogether.

He remembered talking Arthur out of trying to find their father. A man unworthy of carrying - no, sharing his surname. Tommy tensed his jaw, moving past the memory. Instead, he raised a brow at how devastatingly clean the entire place felt. Physically tidy, but clean in a way that made the house feel empty. Unlived. Unloved. Cold. The opposite of everything he thought of her. She was warm. Tender. Inviting.

Moving to the narrow staircase, he could hear the water running. The pipes pushing the water through the house. She was here. She was alive. She was avoiding him - again.

He hiked up the stairs, stepping one foot in front of the other. Like a soldier, he kept moving. He carried on with the task before him. His mind focused on the mission.

Opening the door quietly, Tommy leaned on the door frame - taking in the sight before him. Curved hips that were fuller since he had last seen her. A waist that tempted him to wrap his arms around her. It was now that he reached in his pocket for a cigarette.

“Jesus, Tommy,” she shrieked. The click of his lighter giving him away.

She rested a hand on her heart, shuddering as she closed her eyes.

Unbothered, he traced the stick along his bottom lip before lighting it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She pinched the bridge of her nose, as her breath steadied.

“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he stated. Gaze unchanged. Smoke filling the air.

“I’m in mourning,” she enunciated, grabbing a towel to cover herself. She didn’t bother hiding her frustrations as she shoved past him. She was angry. He liked her angry.

At first, when she didn’t answer his call, he had briefly worried that she was sad. Tearful over the sudden death of her husband, who the police found floating in the river after a night of drinking. His death ruled accidental according to the official report. A drunken man’s blunder. An unsurprising end of life. An expected death for a man who drank as much as her late husband did.

An easy lie to believe, but she knew the truth. The greatest mistake the dead man had made was marrying Thomas Shelby’s favorite whore. It was her mistake more than his. She knew what she was doing when she said yes. The risks she was taking by marrying while Tommy was off in America. Her moment of rebellion had cost a life.

Although, they had gotten past the letter. She hadn’t returned to him. She wanted to keep her promise. To stay married. To honor what was left of her vows. She wouldn’t work for him. She wouldn’t see him. The temptation of losing herself in him made her stay away. She had already ruined the sanctity of her marriage by sleeping with him in his office. She didn’t want to continue making a mockery of the words she vowed before God and man.

She was suddenly religious, which amused Tommy. He thought it was a game, but she clung on to every word spoken by the priest. At the funeral, she remembered his words at the wedding. How he had pressed upon her the importance of repentance. Before Thomas Shelby, she had been a good girl. Never told a lie. Prayed before bed. Devout daughter. Devoted sister. An upstanding and honorable member of her community. He had changed her. Corrupted her. Loved her. Destroyed her.

“It’s been weeks,” Tommy stated coolly.

She ignored him. Her hands focused on the cream she was applying to her skin. Smooth skin. Soft skin. Skin his lips remembered. The taste imprinted on his tongue. Tommy exhaled.

His patience was wearing thin. He loved her. She loved him. He figured out how to help her keep her promise and allow him to keep his. Her husband was dead, and she was free.

“I see you’re eating again,” he quipped, trying to stir a reaction out of her. She didn’t disappoint. He ducked as the bottle of cream nearly struck his head.

“I went from being a whore to being a widow.”

“Sounds like the beginning of a book.” Tommy shrugged then ducked again. This time, she threw a shoe.

“At least I can bargain my way into heaven as a whore,” she resolved, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Is that what your priest tells you?” He brought the cigarette back to his lips for another drag.

He knew. Of course, he knew. She wondered if he was having her followed again. How else would he know about her visits to the church. Her talks with the priest.

“My greatest sin is you,” she finished her thought.

Her words were meant to be cutting, but Tommy remained unbothered. His eyes stoic, jaw set as if he was watching a horse race. He brought his cigarette to his lip, letting it dangle as he neared her. 

She stood up, ready to shove past him again, but he grabbed her forearm. Her eyes flared up at him as she tried to loosen his grip, but he remained firm.

“You want to talk about sins, ey?” He whispered against her ear. “You married a man who picked a pint over his life. A man who stowed you away in a house he couldn’t bear to live in himself, while he stayed three doors down with his brother’s wife.”

She frowned, hearing him confirm a suspicion she wouldn’t allow herself to believe. When he stopped coming home, she told herself that he was drunk at a pub or sleeping his hangover off at his mother’s house.

“A man who lost his wages betting on fights.”

So that’s where all their money had gone, she thought. Her face didn’t flinch as Tommy confirmed another truth. Her late husband was just another man who had let her down. All the words she threw at Tommy about him being a good man were lies. He was just better at hiding his wrongs.

Tommy softened his grip on her hand, as he relayed the sin that he couldn’t forgive. The sin that forced him to intervene without thinking of the consequences. “A man who was willing to sell his wife to settle his debts.”

Her eyes widened then glazed over. The shred of innocence he once found in those warm brown irises was quickly disappearing. He cursed at himself for the letter, but it wasn’t just the letter. It was the months he left her wondering if he could ever love again. It was the voice that told him to push her away. She married the man because of him.

Tommy released her hand. There was a part of him that wished he hadn’t been so honest. Her hardened eyes told him just as much. The look on her face was one he had seen before in the women who dared to love him. When his darkness eventually shadowed their light. When his world swallowed them whole.

She reached for the cigarette hanging from his mouth. Taking a long drag, she exhaled. The smoke covering Tommy’s face.

“My sin was marrying the wrong man,” she concluded.

His thumb brushed her skin, remembering when her lips pressed against his in hunger. His lip bleeding as their need took precedence. Her lip bruised from his appetite. Even when he had her, he needed more. Tracing her lip, he gently placed the cigarette between his fingers then lifted it to his mouth. The first puff was for the memory. The second was for his patience.

“No, my god doesn’t care about sins.”

“I didn’t think you believed in,” sighing, she looked up, “anything.”

Tommy closed his eyes. His patience wearing on him again. “You’re moving out of this house. You’re coming back to work, and you’re going to answer when I call.”

“Of course, Mr. Shelby,” she answered.

His jaw ticked at the use of his surname. The smoke from his cigarette creating a haze over his eyes. “Don’t start.”

“Tell me what your god thinks about whores.”

“Everyone’s a whore,” he muttered, as he moved toward the door, already thinking of his next order of business. The kiss would have to wait.

“Is that what your wife thinks?”

Tommy stopped walking. Leaning his hand on the door frame, he closed his eyes. His nose flared. His annoyance growing with her disobedience. He seemed to attract women who were determined to do the opposite of what he asked.

“She confronted me. Told me to stay away,” she admitted, and in that second, he realized why she ignored him. She was no longer his secret. He made his affection too obvious.

“I’ll take care of it,” he firmly stated, leaving no room for further questions. Yet, she continued.

“Does she follow any of the other girls or is it just me?” She asked.

He wasn’t ready to admit that there weren’t any other girls. That there hadn’t been other girls for a while. From the moment he declared his love, Tommy had made himself hers - only hers.

“You love me, but there are others,” she whispered. “I love you, but all I do is think of them. To be with you, I have to worry about them. I have to wait to be yours.”

“Is that what you’re doing then - waiting?” He asked, closing the distance between them.

Her hand dropped to her middle and Tommy’s eyes followed. He stared, then frowned before bringing his gaze back to her. “How far along?”

Her eyes softened. The grief coloring every muscle in her face. Tommy closed his eyes. She was in mourning. He understood her words clearly now. It was moments like this that made him miss Polly. She would have known.

Tommy muttered something in his Romanian tongue as he sat on the bed. He stamped his cigarette out in silent rage. There was never an end. Death seemed to find him at every turn. It hunted him. Craved him.

His hands went to her robe. Slowly, he pulled the fabric, revealing her body. A body that had prepared itself to carry his child. A body that had nourished him back to life. His fingers moved to her belly, tracing the skin there. The soft, smooth skin.

He looked up at her and saw the tears she wouldn’t shed. How long had she held them in, unable to weep. Unable to speak. Unable to fully mourn. Wrapping his arms around her middle, he pulled her in and kissed the place his hands had touched. He tried to do what she had done for him; he tried to make it okay for her to feel.

“I’m fine, Tommy. It’s better this way,” she said, her voice cold and void of any emotion.

“When?” He whispered, knowing it was his, and yet wondering how he’d missed so much in so little time.

“It doesn’t matter,” she stiffened. “It’s gone now, and I need to move on.”

She gave him a second to make peace with the reality she had lived with for weeks. Then, she moved from his touch, closing her robe as she distanced herself. Loving him was painful enough without the added grief of their lost child.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she folded her arms, avoiding his gaze.

Tommy raised a brow, staring at her before glancing around the room. It was as cold as the rest of the house - bare of any details or remnants of her. Standing up, Tommy found a new mission. He moved past her in search of anything that made the four walls more of a home.

His hands traced the metal bed frame. His fingers trailing the linen and cloth. He opened windows and tapped on wooden walls. He inspected the little furniture in the room, unsatisfied with the results.

“Tommy,” she started to say as he pushed open a wardrobe, finding it empty.

She was leaving. She planned to leave London. She planned to leave him. The thought stung in Tommy’s mind as he opened drawer after empty drawer. His anger taking center stage.

“Tommy,” her voice raised with concern.

He shoved the empty wardrobe back, watching as it crashed against the wall.

“Stop,” she yelled, as he shoved the wardrobe again and again. His grief coloring his anger. His anger coloring his grief. Her heart jumped as the wooden drawers finally cracked under the pressure. The splitting wood overshadowing her screams as the wardrobe completely fell apart.

“Tommy,” she cried, rushing to stop him from breaking the wood further. “Stop.”

“Please,” she whispered. Her plea full of a love she couldn’t deny him.

He exhaled. The sound of his heightened breath taking all the space in the room. His anger taking all the air. Tommy closed his eyes. The familiar whispers creeping in his head, telling him to put out the fire. To walk over to the other side. To let go of this life. To finally rest.

She swallowed, unsure of what to tell him, and yet, she persisted. “My sister found work outside of London. She thought it’d be good for me…”

Tommy shook his head, looking up at the ceiling.

“I wanted to tell you,” she stopped, lowering her head. There was nothing to say.

He scoffed. “Tell me.”

It felt like deja vu to hear him utter those words to her again. To hear the same command. The same request he’d asked from her when she told him about the wedding. Yet, this time, there was nothing left to say.

She stared at the back of his head. Her fingers yearning to brush his hair or wrap themselves around him. Her lips longing to kiss the nape of his neck.

Closing her eyes, she confessed. “There’s no life for me here.”

“You’re not leaving.” He pushed back, ignoring her words. “You’re mine.”

“When?” She sighed. “When am I yours, Tommy?”

He lifted his head, staring at the wall. His mind moving a mile a minute. She couldn’t leave him. His heart wouldn’t allow it. His body would protest. His hunger was contained to her. His thoughts all went back to her. How many minutes until he can think of her? How many meetings until he can dream of her? He suffered without her to be with her. Every hour he was away was an hour he promised to give to her.

He was a selfish man, who wanted what he wanted. A man who endured wars and monsters disguised as men. A cursed man. A broken man. A suffering man. A man who didn’t deserve her, and yet, he wanted her. He needed her. She was the cigarette on his lips. The pain tablets in his pocket. The shirt on his back. The razor blade on his cap. She couldn’t leave him.

“When your wife is gone? When you’re fucking other women?” Her voice continued in the background, but Tommy was half-listening. “When you’re bored? When the nightmares come? When the work is done? When am I yours?” She asked again, although there was no anger in her question.

“When you married him, you were mine. Every time you put on his fucking ring; you were mine.” His brows furrowed as he reached into his side pocket for a cigarette. “When you moved into this house, you were mine. When you had my fucking child inside of you, you were mine.” Tommy sniffed, turning to face her. “From the moment you entered my office, you belonged to me.”

She stiffened, as she traced her empty ring finger. His crassness didn’t bother her as much as his refusal to listen. He disregarded her words, only focusing on what he wanted. It was why she didn’t want to tell him about the baby. He would have stuck her in a big house that he would never visit. Given her everything except the thing she wanted, which was him. But now that nightmare wasn’t even a reality because she’d lost their child. She'd lost a piece of him.

“Is that all it takes…” she started to argue, but words were pointless. Their arguments were pointless. They had a love that was cursed from inception.

In this life, he was promised to another. In the next, he would be reunited with another. In life and death, she had no place in Thomas Shelby’s life. Her love for him didn’t save their unborn child. It reminded her that their love had no place to grow. It was wilted, and no amount of money or prayer could save them.

“You’re not leaving,” Tommy declared, cornering her until she had no choice but to look up at him.  Her brown eyes sinking into him, full of a love he didn’t deserve.

“You made me a promise,” he whispered. His jaw tensing as he remembered that night in his office when he had made himself hers. When he had promised to live. To stop craving death. The gods had given him a second chance with her.

“Tommy,” she protested, but he continued.

“You gave me your word.” His lips brushed hers and her body shuddered. “You made promises to me. Promises I intend to collect.”

His hand slipped down to her robe, loosening the ties. His fingers marking a trail from her chest to her neck to her lips. “Promises you agreed to keep.”

She folded under his touch. Her head falling on his chest as she exhaled. Quick, short breaths that made Tommy pull her in closer.

“And what of your promises?” She grabbed his fingers before they could slip between her thighs.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, trying not to smirk. “Remind me again.”

Shaking her head, she moved from his hands. Her heart ached, but it would always ache whether she was with him or not. He was not wrong. It belonged to him. From the moment she entered his office, her heart had become his. Knowing he was promised to another, it still beat for him. It yearned for him. It acted without consequence.

Thou shall not commit adultery. A vow she’d broken within a month of knowing Thomas Shelby. But her heart didn’t care. It didn’t care about the commandments she broke. Her sins were plenty but her heart was full. Full of love for a man who couldn’t confess his love until she married another.

Turning away from him, she closed her robe. Her hand wanted to follow the trail he etched on her skin, but she didn’t. She could hear him lighting a cigarette. His eyes on her. His eyes undressing her. His eyes claiming her as his.

She wanted to run, but her heart wouldn’t let her. Instead, she willed herself to face him. Smoke in the air. His scent in every crevice of the cramped room. She inhaled and tried to tell him again. Her thoughts were on her lips, and yet, nothing.

Offering her his cigarette, Tommy stepped towards her. “Leaving London won’t cure you of me.”

She reached for the smoke. Grateful for the distraction. For the heat. For the vapors. For the way her lungs would expand and contract. For the cigarette they shared between them. His lips on her lips. Her lips on his.

“That priest of yours won’t help you either,” he added.

“What is the cure then?”

Tommy leaned into her. His hands on her waist, slowly moving her robe up past her knees then her thighs. “First, you have to stop running.”

“Running?” She asked, confused by his accusation.

“The wedding. The job. This house.” He counted. “And now these plans of leaving London.” His hands pushed the fabric of her robe from her skin, leaving her naked before him. “You mustn’t run.”

“And what if I do?” She questioned, not allowing her nudity to dissuade her.

Tommy brushed her cheek before taking the cigarette from her lips. “I’ll find you. Remind you of where you belong.”

“And where is it that I belong?” She asked. Her eyes gentle and pleading. 

He brought her hand to his chest, placing it where his heart lay. “Here. Right here.”

She swallowed her nerves, terrified of letting her heart speak. “Second?” She went back to his list.

“Second.” He took a drag, exhaling the smoke before he continued, “You must know, I get scared,” he admitted, and she finally understood why he’d written her that letter. Thomas Shelby was scared of loving her. The first woman he loved died in his arms because of a bullet meant for him. Love was something to fear, and he was terrified.

“Now, it’s unpleasant and it’s unkind. But when I am…”

“I’ll remind you,” she finished, “of where you belong.”

Tommy cupped her face, placing a kiss on her head. “Good.”

She closed her eyes. Her heart too fragile for Thomas Shelby’s confession. He hadn’t proposed, yet they were already exchanging vows.

“Last.” He leaned his head on hers. “And the most important.”

“Yes,” she breathlessly whispered.

Tommy’s finger traced her bottom lip before he kissed her. His lips hungry to taste her. Selfish in his desire - his consumption of her. He groaned when he felt her kiss him back. Her own need just as desperate as his. She moaned when their lips parted, disappointed by her body’s need for air.

“I promise to have you pregnant by spring.”

Her eyes lit up as she laughed for the first time in months. She chuckled, not taking him seriously. “Tommy.”

“A boy,” he declared, wrapping his arms around her middle. “He’ll have your eyes and my charm.”

She giggled, playfully hitting his chest as he picked her up and placed her on the bed. Her smile widening as she gazed at him. She was returning to herself - returning to him. Weeks of grief slowly thawing from her heart.

Tommy stamped out his cigarette before joining her with a kiss. His body on top of hers. His hands on either side of her head. His mind fixated on the softness of her skin.

“I’ll be back at work in the morning,” she whispered in between kisses.

“You won’t be working anymore.”

She pulled away from his kiss, frowning at him. “What are you on about, Tommy?”

He sighed, already knowing he was about to start another fight. “I won’t have you working with a child of mine inside of you.”

“What?”

“You’ll be carrying my son,” Tommy repeated.

Closing her eyes, she realized he was serious. Of course, he was serious. She wondered how long he’d been planning to get her pregnant again.

“I don’t deserve you,” Tommy kissed her lips. “But, I promised to give you a life worthy of everything you are.” He reminded her. “I promised to let you in my head. I promised to do more than just wait to die. I promised to live.”

She wanted to be angry with him, but he remembered. Every word. Every promise. Everything they had discussed in his office.

“I promised to keep you safe.”

“To make us safe,” she corrected.

He kissed her again. “There are no other girls,” Tommy confessed, reminding her of his other promise. Tommy Shelby was hers.

Grabbing his collar, she pulled him into a long kiss. “No more running,” she vowed.

Tommy smiled. “No more.” He pressed his lips on hers before adding, “You’re mine.”

This time, she didn’t argue, simply letting him kiss her. “Now, where were we, Mrs. Shelby?” He asked, slipping his fingers between her thighs.

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

This was a long one. If you made it to the end, thank you for reading! Let me know your favorite part.

[applejuicefruit]

something cute with reader taking care of drunk kylian pleaseeeee

kylian mbappe x reader

Drunk

“You know…you’re too heavy Kylian…” you joked as you helped your boyfriend walking into his apartment.

You just came back from a football event, event that turned out to be more of a party as your boyfriend and most of his teammates were completely wasted. You knew he didn’t have much free time to do that because of football so you let him enjoy his night.

That’s how you found yourself carrying up from the stairs his heavy and drunk ass.

“Shut up you love me…” he said with a very drunk voice and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sit on the couch and don’t move until I’m back” you said to him but the moment you moved to the kitchen you heard him following you.

“You’re not my mom…” he remarked and you gave him a death look that made him shut up “sorry…” he apologised.

“Good, now would you please sit at the table and wait for me there?” you said pointing to the round kitchen table.

“Okay…” he whispered.

You kept laughing seeing how wasted he was.

“Drink this” you gave him a glass of cold water and an aspirin and he drank it until the last straw.

“You’re very pretty…” he chuckled pointing at you. He looked like a kid, like someone who just wanted attentions and you couldn’t help but laugh at his behaviour. It was something very rare seeing your boyfriend completely drunk.

“Thank you” you thanked him and he smiled “but now big boy it’s time you take a shower and change for bed” you said this time giving him your hands and helping standing him up.

“Only if you’re coming with me” he smirked at you.

“Nope. You’re drunk….” you led him into your bedroom.

“But…” he tried to replicate.

“No but. Get your ass in the shower and I’ll be waiting here” you joked. You watched him pout but then he followed your orders and went straight into the bathroom, of course, forgetting to bring a change of clothes and some boxers.

Once he was done he came out of the bathroom completely naked and you took a few minutes to recompose yourself.

“I forgot my clothes…” he said scratching his head.

“Yes I can see” you teased him but he was still too drunk to even understand what you were talking about. You stood up from the bed and went to his drawers grabbing a new pair of boxers and a t-shirt for him to wear as a pajamas.

“Merci…” he whispered as he dressed up.

While you laid back in bed Kylian decided it was a good idea trying to jump on the bed because apparently he didn’t want to sit and lay as a normal person would do.

“Kyky…what are you doing?” you asked him.

“I just found a new way to get in bed” he said wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You’re very clingy when you’re drunk” you joked.

“I’m always clingy…” he said.

“Oh so you admit it?” you teased him again.

“Whatever” he whispered and you bursted out laughing.

Kylian had no idea why you were laughing but he loved seeing you smile.

“Y/n…” he called you.

“What?” you answered back.

“My head hurts…fuck, how much have I drunk?” he asked this time.

“A lot Kylian, a lot” you said.

“Merde…” he whispered in french and you smiled at him.

You knew it was going to be a long night but you couldn’t wait to see Kylian in his post hangover, that was going to be something to see!

[rosaline-black]

well! in the spirit of being hungover, how about a fluffy hotch and reader where they're nursing their respective hangovers together after a night out with the team? i could see a debate occurring on whether or not pickle juice is an effective hangover cure.

Warnings: mentions of drinking!! Bau!reader since it’s my fave. Mentions of hangovers so maybe don’t read this if you are, I wrote this hungover and trust me it didn’t help. Also I reference rage against the machine since they’re my go to karaoke band. What can I say I love chaos.

The pounding in his head was almost as distracting as the foot digging into his… well somewhere he would rather it not be digging. Last night was impromptu to say the least. He’d been getting into more impromptu situations since he met you, and usually he loved it. Hotch had been more spontaneous over the last few years then he had been his whole life. But sometimes spontaneity feels great in the moment, but not the day after.

This was a prime example.

“Honey… your foot…”

Hotch attempted to reason but if there was one thing he didn’t want to do it was piss you off. Rossi had once made a joke about your messy hair the morning after a pretty wild night out with the team. You didn’t speak to Dave for two weeks after that. It took flowers and a $50 bottle of wine to win you back over and honestly, Hotch didn’t like the idea of not hearing your voice for two weeks (and forking out $50).

“What…”

Your head was still very much smooshed into the pillow so your speech had been rendered into more of a groan then anything considered English. Aaron loved when you were like this. Pouty and a little bit scary.

“Your foot it’s… you’re kind of kicking me…”

At any other moment you’d giggle at how unsure the usually authoritative guy beside you sounded, but the ache in almost every part of your body was overshadowing any joy you may of felt. Moving your foot away from Aaron’s uh crotch area… you turned to open your eyes and face him.

To your surprise he looked just as bad as you felt. Lipstick marks all over his cheeks, dark under eye circles and you could still smell the aroma of lingering tequila which instantaneously made your stomach flip. And not in the head over heels way you usually felt when looking at your partner. It was more like ‘if I smell u any longer I’m gonna throw up the entire bar I drank last night’.

“Please brush your teeth…”

Aarons eyes visibly widened at your blunt frankly kind of rude statement. But who was he to tell you no. And well, you were probably on to something since the inside of his mouth tasted like hand sanitiser.

“Good morning to you too dear…”

Once standing, the full effects of his hangover kicked in. The trademark nausea and dizziness washed over him like a tsunami. Ignoring the overwhelming inclination to empty the contents of his stomach, Aaron successfully brushed his teeth and clambered back into his bed, grabbing a hold of you like you were his life raft.

For about fifteen minutes the pair of you laid in each others arms, cringing at the moments that led to your current predicament. Hotch remembered singing god only knows by the beach boys to you and unfortunately he also remembered Emily’s phone filming the entire thing.

“Did I sing rage against the machine at karaoke last night?”

Hotch snorts at the memory of you screaming ‘fuck you I won’t do what you tell me’ to the tune of killing in the name. Instead of telling you that yes in fact that did happen, he simply kisses your forehead.

Your phone screen catches Hotch’s attention next. You’re typing away furiously, like whatever you were searching for was of utmost importance. In fact Hotch had seen you put less effort into catching serial killers, which is saying a lot since he’s convinced nobody throws themselves into their job like you do.

“Honey you’ll smash your screen if you tap it that hard…”

“Do you think pickle juice will fix this?”

Now Hotch has two options. He can laugh and hope you’re kidding… which seems less and less viable the more he senses the seriousness of your statement. He lands on a neutral statement.

“…fix what?”

Your eyes roll and you tap at your head and then gesture to your face. He’s sure you’re trying to say you look bad but honestly, Hotch can’t imagine a lifetime where you don’t look perfect.

“This pounding in my head… this ache that’s making me want to lay down and die…” You shove your phone in his face and hotch attempts to not flinch at the brightness of whatever click bait wellness page you’ve stumbled across “… it said pickle juice cures hangovers… something about the acidity…”

Aaron’s arm circles around your waist and pulls you to lay on top of his chest, carefully taking your phone in the process.

“Here’s a hangover cure idea… you order some fast food… I’ll go fetch us some litre bottles of water and we’ll spend the day in bed… deal?”

Hotch hopes you give up on the pickle juice idea. He’s pretty sure there’s none downstairs and the thought of going to any kind of grocery store feeling the way he does sounds similar to walking the gates of hell. He hears your answer in the restful sigh you exhale.

“Deal…”

[xoxo-author]

What happens in Vegas, does not stay in Vegas

Hello! I am back! Work and the real world have been kicking my ass. not to mention writer's block! Anyway, here's a little story that I have been daydreaming about forever.

Jake Seresin x FemReader

Warnings: Language, shitty writing, mentions of drinking, suggestive, made up laws

There were four things I was sure of before I even opened my eyes this morning. 

1. I was going to have the worst hangover in the history of hangovers. 

2.  I was never drinking again.

3. Number 2 is a lie

4. I need to ask the hotel where they got their blankets because they seemed to be heated and weighted so I need one.

I couldn't remember what I drank, how much I drank last night. or what we even did. 

There was no doubt that coming to Vegas for a bachelor and bachelorette party would be crazy, I knew that as soon as I saw where we were going, but I didn't think we'd end up straight out of a scene from The Hangover. 

I lay there for a little while longer, trying to get up the nerve to open my eyes. I knew that once I did, my headache would set in and I don't think I was ready for that. 

After a few minutes, I felt myself starting to fall back asleep but before I could, the weight on top of me began to move. Panic rises through me as I thought it was a weighted blanket this whole time. 

Once my eyes adjust, my gaze lands on a very hungover, possibly still drunk, Jake Seresin sitting up on his knees. His hair was all over the place, nothing on but a pair of Calvin Klein briefs, hands rubbing his eyes. 

"What the fuck did we do last night?"

Jake startles, head whipping up to look at me, but recovers quickly. A smirk slides onto his face and he opens his mouth to say something but I quickly hold up my hand to stop him. I was in no mood to hear one of his comments. Taking in his attire, or lack thereof, my mind begins to race. 

My eyes widen as I quickly pull up the blanket that was covering my body. I was in one of Jake's t-shirts so that was a good sign but my relief was short-lived as I came to see that my underwear has seemingly gone mia. 

I push myself up to a sitting position, throwing my hands up to cover my face, "Do you remember anything from last night?"

"You mean, did we have sex?" 

Rolling my eyes behind my hands, "Yes, Hangman, did we have sex or not?" 

I didn't have to look at him to know that he was smirking, "Can you walk?" 

My hands fall away from my face, giving him the most confused face I could muster, "What does my ability to walk have to do with anything?" 

Leaning back on his hands, "Princess, if we had sex last night, there's no way you'd be able to walk this morning."

Closing my eyes, I let out a huge sigh, "Now is not the time for games, Hangman."

"I'm just telling you the truth, ask any of the girls I've taken home." 

I open my eyes to look at him, "There's not enough time in the world to go through that list." 

He rolls his eyes but says nothing else. 

As the silence rolls over the room, I let my eyes wander around. I was definitely in Hangman's room, his stuff was thrown everywhere, it smelled like him, and it had a different view of the strip than mine did. My attention is brought back to Hangman as he drags a hand down his face. My eyes are drawn to his fingers, specifically his ring finger, "Hangman, what's on your finger?"

His eyebrows furrow as he pulls his hand away from his face to look, "Is that a wedding ring?"

A black shiny band wraps around his finger. His ring finger.

"Who the hell did I marry?" 

A sinking feeling settles in my stomach as the words leave his mouth. Slowly, I look down at my hands that rested on my lap. I turn my hand so I could see the back of my hand, my eyes are immediately drawn to the ring that rested on my finger. My ring finger.

I look back up at Hangman, whose brows were furrowed and whose gaze was locked on the ring on my hand, "This is a joke right?"

Hangman didn't say anything, just continued to stare, so he was useless at the moment. 

Flinging the blanket off, I throw my legs off the side of the bed and push myself up. I head over to the dresser and begin to open the drawers, "Hangman, where are your underwear?'

Glancing over my shoulder, Hangman still sat on the bed staring at my empty spot. "Hangman!" 

He turns to look at me, a very confused look on his face. "I need a pair of underwear to wear so we can go find our friends who will hopefully tell us that this was just a joke and that they snuck in here and placed the rings on our fingers while we were sleeping."

He points over to the closet but doesn't say anything. I rush over and throw the doors open, quickly grabbing a pair of his boxers and pulling them on before heading to the bathroom. I put some toothpaste onto my finger before quickly "brushing" my teeth. 

Hangman had pulled on a pair of sweats and was pulling on a t-shirt when I walked out of the bathroom. 

Neither of us said a word as we made our way towards the front door where we find a note from Bob, saying to meet them in the buffet room.

All but throwing open the door, I quickly make my way down the hall and towards the elevator with Hangman trailing behind me. 

The words from my ex repeating in my head, if you get with anyone else I'll have no choice but... my thoughts were interrupted by the ding of the elevator.

The elevator ride seemed to go on forever. Neither Hangman nor I said anything to each other. It was like Hangman and I hated each other but we weren't friends either. I was introduced to the group through Coyote. Hangman had tried his usual tricks to get into my pants and I didn't fall for it. I think I was the only one who didn't fall for him and he wasn't used to it.

The lobby was already busting with people by the time we got here, I couldn't tell if people were going or if their night had just ended. 

Hangman and I begin to make our way towards the buffet room but we didn't get very far, "Mr. and Mrs. Seresin!" 

I turn my head and see the front desk lady looking in our direction.  I stared at her for a few seconds before bringing a finger up to point at me. She nods and enthusiastically waves us over.

I grab Hangman's arm and begin to drag him over to the front desk. 

"Mr. and Mrs. Seresin! Good morning!"

The lady's smile falters for a brief second but returns to its over-the-topness, "I was just about to give you a call! The chapel called and they requested that I copy of the marriage license be mailed to the address in San Diego and that it was successfully filed this morning!"

                                                              **********

The lawyer sets the marriage license down before leaning back in his chair, running a hand over his face, "To be honest, there is nothing we can do."

I'm pretty sure my eyes about fell out of my skull.

"There are laws in place here in San Diego, specifically towards those who get married in Vegas and shotgun weddings. Basically, to not waste the court's time, those who get married like you two did have to be married a full year before they can file for divorce."

I take a deep breath in, leaning my head against my hand, "So we can't get divorced for a year?"

Nodding, the lawyer leans forward, glancing back and forth between Hangman and me, "You will have to prove that you two really gave it a shot, and if at the end of the year, you don't feel the same then you will be granted a divorce. You do have to do the things married couples do like live together, attend therapy, go out, and whatever else they do. You will have random visits by a court-appointed person to ensure that you both are giving this a go. Any questions Mr. and Mrs. Seresin?"

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

masterlist

previous

It was only two weeks after Joel had seduced you at his house for the first time. You were too blinded by the excitement and secrecy of it all, far too naive to recognise the foreboding tone in his voice or the intensity of his hawk like stare. You were already falling in love with him - it was impossible for you to have recognised the first sign of Joel's true nature spilling through his facade.

"Can you believe it?" You had asked Joel, your eyes shining brightly. "Kate's brother found this old sewing box on a scavenger mission yesterday. He knows I wear ribbons in my hair, so he gave me this."

You whirled around to show Joel the pale pink satin ribbon entwined in your braid.

"Isn't it beautiful?" You had asked. "And it's my favourite colour, too."

You couldn't see the way Joel glared, his mouth in a tight line and his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. His jaw ticked.

You had no inkling that Joel had actually been exercising great restraint of his emotions in that moment, although if you looked back now, it would have been clear. He was annoyed, irritated that another man would gift you anything, even something as small as a ribbon. It ignited a flame of jealousy in Joel's skull to see that someone else could make you so happy.

You twirled back around to face him. "Do you like it?"

Joel nodded. His eyes roamed over your face in  contemplative silence before staring directly into your eyes.

"He ever try anythin' with you?" He had grunted.

Your brows creased and your lips quirked in amusement. "Matt? Kate's brother? No way."

Joel took a step closer to you and cupped the apple of your cheek in his large, calloused hand. You leaned into his touch and smiled contentedly at him.

"Take out your hair," he murmured, his eyes fixed on you.

"Huh? Why?"

"Like seein' your hair down," Joel said softly. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss on your forehead. "Looks real pretty, babydoll."

You lowered your eyes bashfully and obliged Joel's request. You reached behind you and pulled the hair tie from your braid, then unthreaded the pink ribbon from your locks. Joel stroked your cheek with his thumb and let out a satisfied hum.

"There ya go," Joel whispered. "Perfect."

When he kissed your lips with a deep and sensual yearning, the ribbon fell from your fingers and onto the kitchen floor.

Oscar was awakened by the sound of rain pelting against the roof of his home sometime around noon. He lay still, teetering between the dream world and consciousness, until the cloud of his dreams fully dissolved. The first thing he actively noticed when he was properly awake was the throbbing heaviness of his head.

Oh, God. What's going on? He wondered, brain muddy and limbs like lead. Am I hungover?

His eyes slowly flickered open. The pounding of history head and the lethargy inside his bones increased instantly. He shut them again tightly.

Yes, a hangover, alright. Fuck me.

Oscar groaned and lazily rolled off his stomach and onto his back, vaguely aware of the softness of his mattress underneath him, thankful that he atleast passed out somewhere comfortable.

He wasn't sure just how much he drank last night. He enjoyed a beer with the guys every once and a while but never got drunk, never crossed the limit of more than a couple drinks in one evening. Alcohol was never a vice Oscar indulged in. Judging by how sick his body felt right in this moment, he would have drank alot last night.

Joel had been the one coaxing Oscar into downing one drink after the other until he was just about falling off the bar stool. Oscar vaguely remembered staggering home sometime last night, Joel firmly gripping his bicep to ensure he wouldn't stumble. He wasn't sure exactly how he got inside the house and into his room.

But atleast Joel was right about one thing - being drunk had made Oscar's brain stop racing and replaying memories of the past over and over, even just for a few hours. The dreams of last night were not ones of screams or bloodshed but a blur of random scenarios all blending into one another. It almost made the hangover worth it. Almost.

He dared to open his bleary eyes again. His gaze wandered over to the small window opposite his bed and he watched the rain pouring down outside.

No library duty today, Oscar randomly thought.

He was grateful that he didn't have to work while nursing a hangover, partly because he didn't want you to see him this way. Oscar didn't want you to think he was a drunkard, a weak man who couldn't hold his liquor. He certainly wasn't an alcoholic - he didn't drink every day like some of the other men did. And he hadn't planned to get hammered last night, either. Oscar screwed his eyes shut and groaned again.

This fucking headache.

Oscar drew the blanket over his body and burrowed underneath it's warmth, where he eventually fell back to sleep.

Your body instinctively roused from sleep at your usual wake up time, unaided by the tinny clang of the alarm clock you forgot to set the night before. Your internal body clock had adjusted to this time after years of an established daily work routine in Jackson, and even after a fitful nights sleep, you were able to wake up around the same time every morning, sometimes only a minute before the alarm clock rang. You weren't necessarily an orderly person who relied on strict routine, but like many others in the town you found regularity helped instill some kind of purpose and stability in your life. It didn't matter if you weren't working every day of the week. Adhering to even a lose kind of structure and keeping yourself busy was key - this was something Maria and some of the older residents had taught you as you grew up in Jackson.

••••••

You yawned and scrubbed the sleep from your eyes. It took a few lazy seconds for your mind to properly wake up but when it did, the first coherent thought it conjured was Joel.

Joel.

Your eyes flew open and you bolted upright in your bed.

"Joel?" You spoke, voice rough from sleep.

Was he still here in your room?

Your head swung around in search of him dumbly, as if his hulking frame could be hiding somewhere in your small bedroom. But it was clear from the stillness and deflated energy of the room that he wasn't. There was no sign of him.

He was gone.

You couldn't help the pitiful way your heart sank inside your chest. Despite knowing just why Joel was absent from your bed this morning, you felt wretchedly alone. You felt used. Like you had been abandoned.

You swallowed thickly at the familiar pang of emptiness stabbing into your stomach.

Joel had to go. It was his duty, part of his role in Jackson to protect the town. You knew this. He would return once the mission was over, safe and sound.

Your hands smoothed over the empty expanse of the bedsheets where he had been, as if searching for evidence, some kind of memento proving his earlier presence. Instead you found nothing physical amidst the tangle of the sheets, only the lingering scent of his body, his musk.

You collapsed back onto the mattress with a thud and stared up at the ceiling, blinking away the tears that had begun to well in your eyes.

There had been many times during your time with Joel when he had left your bed before you awoke. Sometimes he snuck out of the cottage in the early morning hours because he had an early patrol. Sometimes it was because Ellie was home and he wanted to be there when she woke up. Whatever the reason for it, Joel's absence always hurt, tearing tiny pinpricks into the soft centre of your soul, leaving you with that ever present gnawing feeling of inadequacy in the root of your being. However, this morning that hurt was greatly exacerbated by the whirlwind of emotions Joel had evoked in you through his recent actions.

His behaviour and attitude over these last few days had left you dazed and disorientated. Joel had rejected you. It was he who refused to be in a proper relationship with you and to evolve into something more meaningful than sex. So why couldn't he let you go?

If he didn't want to give you what you wanted, why was he so obsessed with asserting ownership over you? Was it because Joel did care, did love you, somewhere deep down in his heart? Could it be why last night he showed you more tenderness than he ever had before?

You had so many questions to ask Joel but you knew even if you had the opportunity to ask them he would never answer you. Not sufficiently, not in the way you need them answered. He would probably just brush you off or argue with you or get mad again.

The intensity of his jealousy and rage haunted you. You still couldn't comprehend just how Joel had been so remorseless in his assault of you, how justified he felt in violating your body. The conviction burning in his eyes had scared you the most. Even now, the mere thought of his piercing stare made you want to shrink and hide away.

The juxtaposition of degradation and gentleness was profoundly confusing. The only thing that was clear was that Joel believed you belonged only to him. It made you feel as if you were an object that only he could manipulate at will. A plaything solely for him to fuck, to keep like a dirty secret, to desecrate.

You were ashamed that Joel had proven how weak you were. That despite his cruelty you would still love him. You would even open your legs for him and let him fuck you and make you cum like a pathetic slut. Perhaps that is all you were ever going to be - unworthy of love and only used as a fucktoy.

The convolution of it all made you want to sink your nails into your flesh and scream. You wanted so badly to go back to sleep and give yourself some kind of reprieve from the web of thoughts and emotions, but you had to get ready for work. You had to keep going.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rain hitting the roof of your cottage. You glanced at the window and saw the pounding torrent coming from the dull overcast morning sky outside. It brought with it a blanket of cold air that quickly enveloped the room and made your bare legs and arms shiver.

"Shit," you whispered with chattering teeth.

You hauled the blanket over your body and curled up underneath it, pulling your knees into your chest. You stared out the window and watched the droplets of rainwater slowly trickle down the windowpane.

You allowed yourself five more minutes under the comfort of your blanket before dragging yourself out of bed to begin your day.

••••••

The sky was cloaked in dark grey clouds and lent a subdued, melancholy quality to the atmosphere of the town that morning. You pulled the hoodie of your coat over your head as you began the walk to the small school building near the centre of town. It was still raining, albeit not as forcefully as it had been in the early morning. The ground was muddy and sludgy, making it necessary for you to wear your gumboots instead of your usual sneakers or boots.

The dreary weather reflected your mood aptly, you thought while you trudged on the path to school. With every step you took your pussy ached with discomfort, reminding you that Joel had been inside you and on-top of you only just last night. And despite washing your body thoroughly under the warm water of the shower this morning, you were sure you could still smell Joel under your fingernails, as if he had stained your skin.

You managed to teach your lesson at the school with some semblance of focus, despite the agonisingly slow ticking of the clock holding you captive. You willed yourself not to think of Joel and to just direct all your attention to the blackboard but it was impossible to do so for a prolonged period, especially when you overheard one of the children telling the others around him that a patrol had left this morning to scout for raiders.

"What are raiders exactly?" One student piped up.

"Bad guys who kill and steal!" The ringleader declared. "My uncle Troy is gonna use his rifle to hunt them away."

How did they know what was going on outside the safe walls of Jackson? You shouldn't be so surprised, you reminded yourself - children were curious and could be quite crafty, most likely acquiring information from spying on their elders or tiptoeing past adult conversations unnoticed.

"Children!" You reprimanded them sternly. You hoped they couldn't detect the slight strain in your voice. "That's enough. I don't want to hear any of you talking about anything other than entomology for the rest of the lesson. Got it?"

They nodded their agreement and were quiet and well behaved for the rest of the lesson. You loved the children and reveled in seeing their youthful faces become animated when learning something fun, when your patience was rewarded by their infectious smiles. The children were a consistent reminder of how precious life was and how important it was for you to help maintain the innocence of the children in the post outbreak world.

Despite your fondness for your students, you were deeply relieved when the school day finished and you could dismiss the children. When they cleared out of the room and left you alone at your desk, you savoured the silence and sighed a deep breath. You rubbed the sides of your temples with your fingertips and groaned. You were sitting on the edge of the chair, still avoiding direct contact with the healing skin of your buttocks.

It was only the first day of Joel's absence and you were struggling to keep yourself together.

"How am I going to do this?" You mumbled to yourself.

"Do what?" A voice spoke up, breaking through the silence of the room.

You gasped and turned towards the door. It was just Kate, watching you with a tilt to her head and a playful grin across her face. You sighed heavily and held your hand to your chest.

"Kate! Don't do that, you know I hate people sneaking up on me." You huffed.

Kate chuckled and strolled through the rows of desks with a drawstring bag slung over her shoulder. "Come on, you love it."

"You creep."

She pulled you in for a hug. "Come on, grouchy. You ready to head to my place?"

You hadn't forgotten the plans to meet at Kate's and work on Cassie's wedding gift. It was an old sewing box that was being restored and upholstered with satin lining, to be filled with some of Cassie's most cherished belongings. One of these items would be her deceased mother's bracelet, another would be a framed photograph, the only surviving picture of her family.

"Yeah, just let me tidy up my desk and lock up," you said.

You stood and picked up the chalk duster and started cleaning the blackboard. Kate stood at your desk and inspected the collection of papers and books sitting on-top of it.

"Bug Science?" Kate giggled, "Bet the kids love that shit."

"Yeah," you smiled to yourself. "Oscar found me one of the next installments so I can actually carry on with a proper lesson plan for once."

"Oooh, Oscar, huh?" Kate murmured. You recognised the teasing lilt of her voice, and when you whipped around to see her she was smirking and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You rolled your eyes. "Can't two people just be friends?"

"Ofcourse," Kate smiled. "It's nice to see you being friends with a guy."

You frown. "What do you mean?"

Kate shrugged. "I swear you barely talk to any dude in town outside your cleaning shifts at the mess hall. You always seem nervous around them." 

You look away from her; you suddenly feel conspicuous and full of shame. You remember the anger in Joel's eyes at seeing you with Oscar, the bitterness laced in his accusations when he interrogated you in your bedroom.

"We are just work friends," you mumble, sweeping the chalk duster over the blackboard.

"Yeah, I know," Kate grins at you. "I heard you. I'm just saying that it's good you're making new friends. Now, hurry up and let's get going. Rhi and Jess are gonna be at my house soon."

It was 9pm when you said goodnight to everyone and started the walk back to your home. It had stopped raining but a cold breeze ripped through the muddy streets, whipping at your cheeks and cutting through the layers of your clothes. You tugged your coat tighter around your waist and marched along. You couldn't help but think of Joel, wondering if he was warm enough out in the open tonight. Was he thinking of you at all?

Once you were done tidying the classroom you gathered your belongings and left the school together with Kate. You did your best to repress the whirlwind of thoughts plaguing your mind, not wanting your friends to suspect that anything was wrong. It was hard to push thoughts and memories of Joel aside entirely, even with being in the company of your girlfriends and focused on a common task. You still enjoyed the evening and rejoiced with them when the sewing box gift for Cassie was completed. And even when dinner time came around and you didn't feel like eating at all, you still went with them to the mess hall, letting yourself bask in the comfort of their laughter and lighthearted conversation.

He is probably far too occupied hunting down the raiders, you idiot, you cursed yourself. Is there's anyone he would be thinking of, it would be Ellie.

Shit, Ellie!

You hadn't even considered Ellie and how she was feeling. She must be worried sick about Joel. You immediately decided to go check up on her.

You crossed the street and slipped between two houses to cut through to the adjacent street. Their home was only another block away from where you were, and it only took another couple of minutes for you to get there. Steeling yourself against the wind, you trudged up to the small front steps and knocked your fist against the door.

It didn't take long for Ellie to swing the door wide open. Seeing the solemn expression on her face, her wide brown eyes filled with worry, made your heart crumble.

"Hey," she mumbled.

"Hey, El," you said gently. "I heard Joel went with some of the others for patrol. I just wanted to check on you, see how you were going."

Ellie shrugged and looked down, shuffling her feet awkwardly. "Okay, I guess."

You reached out and gave her upper arm a small squeeze. "I'm here for you anytime, alright? If you need someone to talk to."

Ellie nodded and looked back up at you. "He's been on these kinda missions before," she said. "He's old but he's still a tough motherfucker."

You smiled softly at her candor.

"I just miss him, you know?" Ellie sniffed.

You sighed. Me too, you wanted to say.

"Do you wanna come inside?" She asked.

You nodded and she ushered you through the door and into the warmth of the living room. It didn't feel awkward being in Joel's house again, even with him gone; you had spent enough time here to be familiar with the nooks and crannies of the interior, with the smells and sounds, even with the quirks of the noisy upstairs bathroom pipe and the squeaky spare bedroom door.

"I'm actually gonna go sleep over at Uncle Tommy's to keep Maria company," Ellie explained as she shut the door behind you. "Just gotta pack some stuff before I go over there."

"That's a good idea. I'm sure Joel would agree with that." You state evenly.

Ellie snorts. "He still makes me lock the fuckin' door whenever I leave the house. He'd be pissed if I stayed here alone."

You give a shrug of resignation. "He's always been that way about your safety. You know he's just being protective."

Ellie rolls her eyes. "Yeah yeah."

"Can I help you with packing?" You asked.

"Sure. I gotta get some shirts from the laundry, my tooth brush....," she thought aloud as she counted on her fingers. "Actually, can you go to Joel's room and get me one of his shirts?"

Your body went rigid at the mention of Joel's room. "What? His shirt? Why?"

"He said if I ever miss him I could sleep with one of his shirts," Ellie mumbled sheepishly. "Said it would make me feel better."

Oh. That made sense. If only you had the chance to do that, too.

You swallowed and nodded. "Which one do you want?"

Ellie scrunched up her nose and shrugged. "Doesn't matter." She turned around and grabbed some comic books that were sitting on the couch. "They're all the same anyways."

You were grateful that Ellie was so comfortable with you and trusted you, that she thought nothing of asking you to pick one of Joel's shirts out from his bedroom on her behalf. You made your way up the stairs and creeped to Joel's room. You'd been inside his house many times before, had been naked in his bed more times than you could count, but you still felt a twinge of thrill at venturing into his private space, alone and without anyone around.

The door was already wide open. You slunk into the darkness of Joel's room and fumbled for the light switch. The glow of the ceiling light illuminated the room. It was sparsely furnished with only a dark solid timber dresser and a matching bedframe and mattress. His bed was neatly made. The window was shut and the curtains were drawn closed. The scent of Joel - sandalwood and pine - filled your nostrils and wrapped around your heart like a warm caress.

You entered his closet and trailed your fingertips along the row of flannel sleeves that hung from the shirts on the coat hangers. There were several flannel shirts of dark greens and reds alongside a couple of jackets and long sleeve button up cotton shirts. The material felt so warm and soft under your touch. You selected a green flannel from the middle of the bunch and slipped it from its hanger. You had always liked Joel in the green ones.

You were about the leave the closet when something on the shelf above the shirts caught your eye. A sliver of something white. You frowned and stood up on your tiptoes to see what it was. You spied the edge of a small white shoebox peeking out from around a stack of jeans.

What could it be?

You glanced back over your shoulder to the door outside the closet.

Ellie was still downstairs.

Surely you could just have a little look, right?

You turned back to the box and chewed your bottom lip in deliberation.

You didn't want to invade Joel's privacy. You really didn't want to snoop. But the curiosity was gnawing at you.

Oh, fuck it.

You pushed up as tall as your tiptoes would allow and stretched your arm high above you to reach past the jeans and grab the corner of the box. You were able to just catch ahold of it.

Yes!

You nudged it toward you and pulled it off the shelf. Still holding Joel's shirt, you held the box in one hand and lifted the lid off with your other hand, your heart pounding in your chest.

When you opened it, you frowned at the contents before you.

There was a scrap of lacy white material. It took a moment for you to recognise that it was actually a pair of your underwear. An old Polaroid camera. An envelope stuffed with something. A pink ribbon. A gold necklace with a pendant. A folded piece of lined paper.

Oh. The pink ribbon.

The ribbon Kate's brother gave you.

You hadn't seen it for so long - you had thought it was lost, perhaps coming loose from your hair one day and disappearing forever.

What was it doing in this box? And why was your underwear in there, too?

You were about to sift through the rest of the items but the sound of Ellie's voice calling your name came floating up the stairs. It made you gasp and frantically slam the lid back on the box.

"Coming!" You yelled back.

You stumbled onto your tiptoes again and shoved the box back ontop of the shelf and scurried out of the closet.

Shit shit shit.

Ellie was still in the living room shovelling things into a duffel bag when you returned downstairs.

"Got it," you smiled, trying to appear casual and not at all flustered at the discovery you had just made.

"Thanks," Ellie accepted the flannel from you and packed it into the bag. "Ya know, I miss your banana bread. You haven't baked for ages."

You chuckled. "El, it's only been a couple weeks."

"Yeah, that's forever! And that last batch of cookies? They were so good, Joel practically inhaled his share." Ellie laughed.

You couldn't contain the smile that broke out on your lips. "Oh?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded. "So can you make more? Like really soon?"

"Sure," you smiled softly. "Hey, that gives me an idea. How about we bake something special for Joel when he comes back?"

"Yeah, okay." Ellie gave you a little grin. "Sounds good."

When Ellie finished packing you insisted on walking her over to Maria and Tommy's house to ensure she got there safely. You eventually returned home, your cheeks red from the cold wind, and rolled into bed without bothering to change your clothes. You were tired and just wanted to sleep.

You didn't know what to think about the secret box in Joel's closet. It was perplexing, and it made you feel slightly uneasy. You found yourself trying to rationalise what you discovered; perhaps he found the ribbon and was going to return it to you later, and maybe he kept your underwear as a harmless souvenir, a physical reminder of the intimate tie you two share. Maybe Joel was secretly sentimental.

You didn't allow yourself to really think about it in depth. Instead, you vowed to throw yourself in work at the school and library without dwelling too much on waiting for Joel to return.

The weather was still overcast and miserable the following day when you had the next library shift. Bundled in your coat you were about to open the library door when it swept back, opening wide to reveal Oscar already inside.

"Quick, come in," he urged. "It's terrible out there."

"Thanks," you said as you shuffled into the library.

Oscar shut the door behind you. He was wearing a navy blue turtle neck sweater with jeans. He had removed his shoes and left them by the door, and you saw his sock clad feet peaking out from under the cuff of his jeans. You smiled to yourself at the casual domesticity of it. You peered down at your own feet and groaned.

"Damn, my boots are all muddy! I'm sorry."

You gestured down at your shoes caked in mud and the dirty prints of your soles on the floor.

"No problem, I'll clean the floor later." Oscar waved a hand dismissively.

"Okay," you conceded quietly, feeling a little shy. You shrugged your arms out of your coat.

"Anyway, good morning to you." He tilted his head slightly, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "How are you today?"

You laughed a little. "Good morning to you, too. I'm alright. How are you?"

Oscar scratched his chin and then smoothed his beard with the tips of his fingers. "I'm alright, too.  Just thinking about the next steps in our library makeover venture."

"Well, whatever you decide, I'll be here to help." You said as you squatted down and untied the laces of your boots.

You and Oscar fell into an easy rhythm together, just like on your first shift. He continued painting the walls while you set about cleaning the library space from top to bottom.

"Couldn't do it without you, bookworm," Oscar grinned.

Oscar had asked for you to eat lunch with him in the mess hall again but you adamantly refused, making some excuse about not wanting to leave the library. Undeterred, Oscar disappeared to the mess hall and returned balancing a serving tray with two serves of the lunch the cafeteria was serving that day. You laughed with surprise at his kind gesture, which made him grin even more. And from that day onward, whenever you worked at the library, Oscar would fetch lunch for you both and bring it back for you to eat together.

Over the next four weeks the friendship between you and Oscar progressively flourished. The hours you spent together on the library shifts were filled with discussions of extensive topics, ranging from philosophy to food, music and novels. As you got to know each other better, the more evident it was that there was a connection between you, a mutual respect and affection for each other. You had never felt such an affinity with someone before; an intellectual match with reciprocal emotions and ideas.

It was innocent. There was no hint of romance or sexuality in your interactions, none of the flirtatious kind of repartee you often saw your friends exchange with men at the Tipsy Bison. You weren't accustomed to close friendships with the opposite sex but the sincere nature of Oscar's friendship was comfortable. You valued him for his thoughtfulness and wit, his kindness and his humour. Oscar seemed to appreciate your thoughts and ideas, always asking for your opinion on things. It made you feel important, worthwhile, seen.

Sometimes townsfolk came to the library looking for books on a particular topic, and occasionally some of the children would stop in to read the small collection of picture books and comics the Jackson library possessed. They all complimented on how bright and clean the small building looked now.

The library had always been your sanctuary, and now with Oscar's company there, it felt like your second home. Seeing the results of your efforts gave you a sense of accomplishment and pride. You wished Maude could see it. When you verbalised this to Oscar, he suggested you both visit her after work together; and you did, much to her delight.

You didn't see each other outside your library duties. Oscar had returned to the stables for work duty on the days he wasn't at the library, and you were busy teaching the children. You found yourself wishing you could see Oscar to tell him about the funny things that happened during the day, or about some random fact you had learned while reading.

Gradually over the month, you noticed tiny changes within yourself. You were whistling more often. That you wanted to read more. Your appetite improved greatly and you actually felt hungry. You were able to look at your reflection in the mirror without instantly seeking out your flaws.

You still missed Joel. You still dreamed of his handsome face and his hands on your body, still craved the taste of his mouth and the saltiness of his skin. His absence had only made you crave him more, outweighing your sadness and hurt and compartmentalising it into the depths of your mind.

So when Ellie came running up to you one afternoon while you walked home, squealing that Joel and the patrol group had radioed that they were on their way home, you rejoiced.

You wanted to shower him with kisses and slide into his lap and fuck him, feel him inside you once again, show him how much you missed him.

Had he missed you, too?

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy

[ginnyw-potter]

A hungover Harry in her bed

Full oneshot also on AO3.

Ginny woke up with a low throbbing in her head. She had too much to drink last night, but that probably meant it was one hell of a new year celebration. She was currently still a little fuzzy on the details. Something shifted beside her and she froze.

She opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling wondering if she had imagined it. Then she felt something move again and she became aware of the shape beside her.

“Wha—?” Her head snapped to the left and she saw the mop of black hair, the shape of a man. “Aah!”

“Aah!” the man yelled, pushing off the bed in surprise and landed on the carpet beside her floor with a loud thud.

“Harry?!” she said and quickly glanced down, but to her immense relief she was not naked.

The poor guy looked at her in complete terror and then to the door as it swung open, and his eyes widened with even more terror as Ron appeared.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Ron noted calmly as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Ginny gaped at him. “Why are you not more surprised about this?”

“Trust me, I am enjoying your utter surprise right now,” he said, pointing between the two of them.

Harry groaned and let himself drop back down on the carpet and stared up at the ceiling.

“But you two snogged last night. Well and properly...” Ron eyed them knowingly as he mimicked pulling someone in for a kiss. “Face-sucking... French kissing, German... a whole world tour...”

“Oh, Merlin,” Ginny let out and some vague memories of what they had done was starting to seep back into her mind.

Harry let out a strained, garbled sound from the floor.

“And you let us get in bed together when we were that drunk?” Ginny asked.

Ron nodded happily. “Yes, after I put a no-sex spell on you.”

Harry muttered a ‘thank, fuck’, muted a little because half his face was buried in the fluffy carpet.

“How do you know how to do that spell?” Ginny asked.

“Mum asked,” Ron told her with even more glee. “After you gave her the happy news when she came home at 2 AM, announcing Harry was your new—”

“Don’t even say it,” she cut him off. “Mum knows?”

Ron nodded happily. “Oh, yes.”

Harry groaned.

“If you are planning on puking, I suggest you don’t do that on my carpet because there is no amount of scourgify to get it from out of all those strands,” Ginny told Harry.

He glanced at her for just a moment and then continued to stare ahead of him, his eyes glazed over. “I’m not.”

Ron smiled at the two of them. “You make quite a pair. I’ll leave you to it... Oh and before I forget...” He ducked into the corridor for a moment. He came back with two potions. “Hangover potions. I think you’ll need them.”

Ginny grabbed one of them and Ron placed the other on the floor in the vicinity of Harry. Then he slowly closed the door. Ginny could hear him go down the stairs.

She took up the potion and gulped it down, the sooner she drank it the better, and perhaps the queasy feeling would leave her. She gave it a moment to settle in her stomach and she immediately felt some relief. She stepped out of bed, picked up Harry’s potion, and handed it to him.

He sat up enough just to drink it and she leaned against the side of her bed. He emptied the vial and set it down. He rested his head back on the carpet.

“Cute underwear, Harry,” she said.

He shook his head. “Don’t.”

“Maybe it’s for the better we didn’t have sex,” she said.

“I wouldn’t want to have sex with you and then not remember,” he replied. Then he frowned. “That came out wrong.”

She bent over, her face appearing above his. “Think that came out as you meant it.” She lay down on the carpet beside him. “If my mum thinks we’re together...”

“You announced it,” he retorted. “Apparently.”

She groaned. “Ugh, I’m such a tattler when I’m drunk.”

“You do a pretty good job at it too when you’re sober.”

She slapped her hand towards him without looking and aimed a little too low. To her surprise her hand bounced right off before it even touched him, like a shield. “Oh.” She did it again and the same thing happened. “I guess that spell is still working.”

Harry turned his head. “I would really appreciate it if you would stop aiming for my junk.”

She chuckled. “Sorry.”

***

After a very awkward breakfast where the both of them tried to pretend like nothing was out of the ordinary, Harry stepped out into the garden.

Ginny finished washing up and then pulled on her coat and scarf. She picked up her boots by the door and quickly slipped into them. She walked to the bench he was sitting. “Can I?” She pointed at the vacant spot beside him.

“Sure,” he said, adjusting his position so his arm was out of the way.

Ginny sat beside him, only leaving a little space between them. “That’s not how last night was supposed to go.”

“No,” he agreed.

She offered him an amused smile. “I never thought you’d look so terrified to find a girl in your bed.”

He shook his head, grimacing. “Yeah, well. It was your bed in your parents’ house. Your whole family...” he trailed off. “It’s a little daunting.”

“Suppose it is,” she said.

“I must admit,” Harry started carefully. “That I’ve sort of started to fancy you over the last year.”

Though he wasn’t looking at her, she offered him a smile. “I have fancied you for a really long time.”

 Harry’s arm came around her shoulder and she leaned towards him, resting her head on his shoulder. He rested his head against hers.

“You have a hickey on your neck,” she said after a moment of silence.

“I know,” he said lightly.

She closed her eyes, resting against him enjoying his body heat. “If your hands are cold, I’m happy to hold them.”

[canirove]

My neighbour Rúben | Chapter 14

Author's note: You don't want to miss Friday's chapter 👀

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

When I woke up the next day, my head hurt like hell. Everything hurt like hell, to be honest, and I wasn't sure about where I was. That wasn't my room at my grandma's house, that wasn't my bed and... And someone's arm was around my waist.

"Shit" I whispered. What had I done?

I tried to move and turn to see who was hugging me, but his grip was too firm, and I couldn't move without waking him up. Because this definitely was a man's arm. 

I needed to remember. What had happened last night? I went to a party with Aaron Ramsdale. To Ben White’s house. So that's where we probably were. And we drank something pink, and then... Rúben. I remembered talking with Rúben. And dancing. But what did I do after that? 

"Fuck!" the man behind me said, both of us jumping when someone closed a door with too much force. "That was too loud" he said, his arm leaving my body as he changed his position. "Are you awake?"

I recognized that voice. Aaron. The man next to me was Aaron. Why was I sharing a bed with him?

"I am" I said, my voice sounding all cranky. I needed a glass of water so badly... 

"I need some water" he said as if reading my mind. "Do you want some?"

"Please."

I felt him leave the bed and walk somewhere, turning a light that was too bright, both of us complain about it. While he cursed, I hid my head under the duvet. And that's when I noticed I was just in my underwear. Dear God, what had I done?

"Why are you hiding?" Aaron said next to me. 

"The light. Too bright" I said, still under the duvet.

"Happy hangover" he chuckled, leaving the glass on the bedside table before getting back in bed next to me. 

This was bad. This was so so bad. And my head hurt. And I needed to pee. Badly. So finding some courage God knows where, I moved from under the duvet, looking around.

"Morning" Aaron said. 

"Hi" I replied, not looking at him. "Bathroom?"

"The door in front of us."

"Thank you" I said, getting up from the bed. But the moment I was on my feet, everything started moving.

"Woah, careful there" Aaron said, holding me by the arms. "Slow movements."

"Slow movements" I repeated, getting up again. 

Once inside the bathroom, I made sure to lock the door. 

"Ok" I said, taking a deep breath. I moved to look at myself in the mirror, see if there was anything different about me. But beyond looking horrible, my hair being a mess and my eyes red and swollen, I looked like always.

"You took your time there" Aaron said when I finally came out. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just too much liquid in my body."

"We drank a bit, didn't we?"

"I could drink a lot more. But just water" I said, getting back in bed and drinking the glass he had brought me in just one go.

"Same. Do you want me to get us something to eat? That will also help."

"Talking from experience?"

"I'm afraid so" he said with that big smile of his.

"Ok. But Aaron," I said once he got up, just wearing his boxers. "Can you see if my phone is over there? My grandma may be going nuts wondering where I am."

"She knows you are with me. When you were in the bathroom I checked my phone and I had a text from my dad saying not to worry, that they knew" he said, handing me my phone.

"Oh, great. Thank you." 

"You're welcome."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"This is the best meal of my entire life."

"It's just a breakfast burrito" Aaron chuckled before giving his a big bite.

"Best meal ever" I repeated. Ben had thought of everything, getting breakfast for those guests who had decided to stay. "Do you think he'll get mad if we get his sheets dirty?" 

"He'll probably burn all the sheets that have been used tonight" Aaron laughed.

"Do... Do you..." I mumbled, putting down my burrito. 

"Do I...?" he asked with a smile.

"Do you remember what happened last night?" 

"You don't?"

"I remember us dancing and calling..."

"Rúben."

"Yes." 

"I think he's gonna be a bit pissed."

"What?" I said, my voice coming out louder than I expected.

"We made out while we were dancing. Then we came here, we kept making out, ended up in our underwear, and then…”

“And then?” 

“Then I… I… God, this is so embarrassing.”

“What happened, Aaron? Tell me.”

“Well, I started touching you down there, and you basically moaned Rúben's name instead of mine.”

“Oh my God” I gasped. 

"You have gone so red" he laughed. "But it's ok, don't worry.”

“Really?”

“It is. It had never happened before, but there is a first time for everything” he shrugged. 

"I don't know what to say, I…” 

“You don't have to say anything. At least not to me.”

“What do you… Oh.”

“Yep.”

Rúben. The call. He was going to ask me about what had happened after. And since I can't lie because my face gives it all away…

“Urgh, I'm such an idiot!”

"Hey, don't" Aaron said, holding my hand. "Not crying under my watch."

"But I... I just ruined everything before it even started!"

"You don't know that."

"Oh, c'mon Aaron. If the girl you liked got drunk and did what we did with a guy she just met, wouldn’t you be mad at her? Wouldn’t you feel hurt and betrayed?"

"He may understand" he said after a few seconds of silence. "You said you were single, it isn't cheating."

"We had something going on, Aaron. And now it is gone."

"Oh, fuck!" he cursed, hitting the bed and making the food go everywhere. We could add Ben to the list of people angry with us. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have brought you here, or told you to have a drink when you said you didn't drink, or..."

"It is my fault, Aaron. Not yours. I said yes to all of that, you didn't push me to do anything" I said between sobs.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry" he said, moving closer and hugging me, my body shaking while I cried.

I had fucked up. And big time.

[oddinary4bts]

The Forgotten Spaces | ch 4 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there will be mature content in later chapters)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: nausea, hangover, the park jimin effect, drinking, cursing? a time skip of a month

☆word count: 9.6k

☆a/n: why is posting making me anxious? fun fact, I'm posting from New York City this week! Went to the two first Agust D concerts ayyy

☆a/n pt2: always and forever thankful for @moonleeai and her dedicated work as my beta reader <3

☆series masterpost here

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Saturday, May 19th

                Jungkook feels sick. Sick of everything, but mostly sick because his hungover has kept him in bed all day. He doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to pull up for dance practice later. All he knows is that his room has been spinning whenever he wakes up from naps, and that he fucked up majestically last night.

He doesn’t quite remember everything he said. He just remembers you, in his room, and then you being gone, replaced by Jimin and Taehyung.

The only thing he knows is that you know. The text that’s been sitting on his phone all day is reminder enough.

[11:12 am] You: hey, i hope ur okay this morning.. if u ever wanna talk about last night, we can grab a coffee or smth😌

He doesn’t know what to say, so he hasn’t replied. Because he’s not okay at all, and he doesn’t want to talk about it. Especially not with you.

Especially not when he hasn’t been able to eat anything since the first time he woke up today. It’s nearing 4 pm now, and he technically needs to be at the studio in two hours. Hobi already said he’d pick him up, but he’s still far from being presentable right now.

Jungkook groans, hiding his face in his pillow. You come up in his mind, the look of horror on your face last night making everything spin around him twice as much as before. Whenever he closes his eyes, you’re there, and he almost hopes to go blind.

Though he’s pretty sure you’d find a way to haunt him even if he was blind.

Another groan escapes him, and he turns his head to the side as someone knocks on his door. “Uh?” he lets out, loud enough for whoever it is to hear.

He’s surprised to see it’s Yoongi as the man opens the door. “I made you soup,” Yoongi says, and sure enough he is carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of soup on top of it.

Jungkook expects the thought of eating to make him feel worse, but surprisingly enough, no nausea rises inside of him. Instead, he realizes his stomach feels dreadfully empty, so he forces himself to sit, wincing at the throbbing pain at his temples.

It’s almost enough to make him forget the pain in his leg.

“Did you take any painkillers?” Yoongi asks as he puts down the tray at the foot of the bed. “And have you drank any water?”

“Yes and yes,” Jungkook replies, voice raucous from disuse. “Pretty sure I could use some more painkillers though.”

Yoongi nods, watching his younger friend carefully. “Do you need me to go get you some?”

Jungkook slowly shakes his head no. “I need to get out of bed if I want to make it to dance practice.”

At that Yoongi laughs. “Good luck with that.”

Jungkook frowns, glaring at Yoongi. “I’m very capable, I’ll have you know.”

“Your room smells like someone died in here.”

Though he’s usually sensitive to smell, Jungkook’s hungover state keeps him from being able to tell if the room really does stink. “Tae and Jimin cleaned up.”

“Then you must be the dead body,” Yoongi says, in that deadpan kind of way of his. He shrugs his shoulders, before adding, “Anyway, just eat and then take a shower. I’m sure you’ll feel better.”

Jungkook nods and watches as Yoongi makes to move out of his room. Yoongi’s at the door when Jungkook says, “Hyung?” Yoongi turns around, a quizzical look on his features. “Thank you for the soup.”

A smile breaks out across Yoongi’s face. “Anytime.”

And then Yoongi leaves, shutting the door softly behind him, and Jungkook is left alone once again. He looks down at the soup, and he realizes he really is hungry. He pulls the tray closer to him, making sure the soup doesn’t spill over the rim of the bowl, before grabbing the spoon.

The first spoonful of soup has his eyes fluttering shut with delight. Yoongi’s always been an amazing cook, and he hasn’t disappointed today. It awakens Jungkook more than anything else could have, and he’s finished the bowl of soup so quickly he almost considers eating the tray.

He’s still famished, but at least he’s got something in his stomach now. It’s enough to get him to stand from his bed, and though everything wobbles for a few seconds, he’s able to start gathering what he’ll need for his trip to the shower.

The shower really helps make him feel human again, and he’s relieved. As he steps out and looks at himself in the mirror, eyes dipping to his scars, he feels ready to confront the whole world if need be. He won’t have to bail on dance practice after all.

He’s down in the kitchen, eating some reheated pizza from last night, when Hobi arrives. His older friend pats him on the back, before putting down a Gatorade in front of him.

“Thought you’d need this,” he says, before climbing on the stool next to Jungkook.

Jungkook chuckles, immediately uncapping the Gatorade to take a long swig. It’s the last thing he needed to feel as good as new, and he offers Hobi a wide grin as soon as he puts the bottle down.

“I sure did,” he says, and the two friends laugh.

One thing that doesn’t change though, is the heaviness in Jungkook’s heart. Because if you know, then it’s just a matter of time before the rest of the crew knows. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to deal with everyone pitying him at the same time.

Maybe then he’ll just have to dip again.

Jin comes into the kitchen, and he stops as he sees Jungkook and Hobi at the counter. Valeria trails behind him, and Jungkook is struck dumb once more.

He never thought Jin would be able to pull the girl. He’s still surprised that she does exist, and whenever he’s alone with Jin he makes it a priority to remind his older friend.

“Sup’ losers,” Jin says as he starts moving again, heading towards the fridge to store the bottle of rosé wine he’s holding. “Surprised you were able to get out of bed.”

He says that over his shoulder looking right at Jungkook, who rolls his eyes. “I’m not a senior citizen like you, I’ve still got youth on my side.”

“Listen you little shit,” Jin bursts out, and Valeria starts laughing. It has the effect of a calming shower on Jin, who only glares at Jungkook. “You’re lucky the lady is here. Otherwise you’d be dead.”

“If you’d be able to catch me, that is.”

Jin looks towards Hobi.

“Don’t ask me for help,” Hobi says, raising his hands in defense. “You’re all alone on this.”

Jin’s head turns towards his girlfriend next. She’s shy, and Jungkook has never really talked to her before. So when he and Hobi look at her too, she blushes, before shrugging.

Jin lets out a childish whine, before saying, “Alright then, I’m old.”

“We like you like that.” Valeria is the one that speaks, and Jungkook chokes on a laugh as he turns back towards Jin.

“You heard her.”

Jin is fake-glaring at his girlfriend, but then his features soften. “Yeah, but at least she’s pretty.” And just like that he moves out of the kitchen, pulling Valeria behind him.

“I’ve been told I’m pretty too,” Jungkook yells behind Jin, and Hobi laughs next to him. “He’s so whipped,” Jungkook says after a few seconds, just to make sure Jin is out of earshot. His comment makes him think about another couple that’s starting to form, and he turns to look at Hobi. “And you? What’s up with Jiho?”

Hobi chokes, flushing fully red, up to the top of his ears. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows as he tries to hold in the shit-eating smirk that wants to form on his lips. “What do I mean? Why did you invite her yesterday?”

“I –” Hobi says. “I just thought it’d be fun to hang with the crew…”

“The crew?” The smirk has won now, and it breaks across Jungkook’s lips.

“Well, you know, just like…” Hobi falls silent, before letting out a strangled laugh. “I honestly didn’t see it coming.”

It’s cute, and Jungkook’s smirk turns into a softer smile. “To be honest, me neither.”

“She’s got balls though,” Hobi says, laughing lightly this time. “She’s the one who suggested we should go on a date, after dance practice last week.”

All that Jungkook remembers of that night is that he walked with you after. The rest is a blur of anxiety and his leg hurting. But he’s not surprised that Jiho’s got balls: she has to be your closest friend for a reason.

“You said yes, I hope,” Jungkook says.

Hobi slowly nods. “Yeah. But I invited her yesterday because of that too. And we’re going to a restaurant she suggested tomorrow.”

Jungkook doesn’t have to fake the happiness that takes over him right now. He’s happy for his friend, he really is. For his friends, plural. Because Taehyung, Jin, Yoongi and now Hobi… They’re all happy. They all have met someone, someone to care for them where no one else can. Strangely, it’s something Jungkook doesn’t really want for himself right now, maybe because he’s too stuck in the past.

Too stuck trying to heal from the crash, knowing some parts won’t ever heal and refusing to give up the fight for now.

It brings him back to you. To last night, and to whatever he said. He wishes he could remember the words, just to know how bad he fucked up, but he doesn’t. He won’t remember, and he won’t ask you.

He won’t take you up on your offer for coffee. He knows pity when he sees it, and he abhors it. Especially when it comes from you.

Instead, he focuses on Hobi, on the smile that lights up his friend’s face as he tells him about Jiho, about how they’ve been texting almost constantly. It’s all Hobi talks about on the ride to the studio, as he mentions stuff Jiho told him.

Stuff she told him about her when she was younger, but also about you. About how you’ve been friends since the first day of kindergarten, when someone pulled her braids and laughed at her and you punched them in the face.

He’s not surprised child you would punch someone that deserved it in the face. He’s pretty sure adult you would do it too.

Hobi parks his car next to the studio, and they are getting out of the vehicle when Jungkook notices you walking, hands buried in yet another oversized sweater. You’re wearing yoga pants underneath, and your hair is pulled up in a high ponytail. You catch his gaze a few seconds after he notices you, and he’s about to smile at you when you just look away, walking in the building without once glancing back.

What the fuck?

Jungkook frowns, especially as Hobi says, “What happened with Y/n last night?”

For some reason, Jungkook immediately grows defensive. He shrugs, a little vehemently before starting to walk towards the door. “Nothing happened. Just let it slip that I got into a car crash.”

“So she knows?” Hobi asks.

Another shrug of Jungkook’s shoulders. He buries his hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants, just to hide the way he’s clenching his fists even though he’s trying to stay calm. “Yeah. So everyone will know.”

“I don’t think so,” Hobi says, and Jungkook glances at him, brows knit together. “I mean, she’s good at keeping secrets.”

“She’s probably already told Jiho,” Jungkook points out as they reach the door. He doesn’t see you on the other side, and that’s the only reason why he opens it.

“Well, Jiho didn’t say anything about you, if that can reassure you.”

Hobi has felt the switch in his mood, hasn’t he? Because his voice is careful, as if he’s afraid to spook him.

“I don’t care,” Jungkook lies. Because he really does care. He doesn’t want everyone to know. Because it makes it too real, and for now he still can pretend it hasn’t happened.

He wishes for it to stay that way.

Hobi doesn’t push him more, and a tense silence moves between them. Jungkook wishes he could go back to his previous good mood about his friends’ happiness, but he’s back where he was last night. Somewhere in the dark of his own mind.

Not a good place to hang, if he’s honest.

He already knows he’s going to see you when he reaches the studio. Somehow, it still makes his heart constrict in his chest, that same way it did last night. As if someone is clenching their fist around it, and it makes it harder to breathe. He shrugs it off, taking a deep breath to calm down, before looking around.

Everyone but Heather is already here. And no one is looking at him, no one seems surprised or seems to be pitying him. You don’t even act like you noticed him entering – you take off your sweater, dropping it in a corner of the room with your phone and your keys. He hates it, but his eyes follow the curves of your body, and he wants to curse you for only wearing a sports bra.

Your body is lean, the results of dancing for most of your life with a mother that used to be a ballerina. Jungkook is pretty sure she’s controlled everything you ate growing up, and drilled it so hard into your head that you can’t stand bad food now. He remembers, when you were younger and someone brought cake to practice to celebrate a birthday, you always barely took a bite before saying you were full. You claimed you didn’t like cake, but he always noticed the way you eyed it while everyone else ate.

He used to make fun of you for it, and today he knows he was an asshole. All he can hope is that your relationship with food is better now. And it looks like it is – you’re not as thin as you were before. You look healthy, and your skin and hair are glowing.

It takes him a few good seconds to realize he’s staring, as if something about you has changed. And he doesn’t know what changed, just knows that he feels struck.

You notice him staring, and you furrow your brows. “What are you looking at?”

It’s said aggressively. As if you’re angry. He only then realizes that you might be, and maybe that’s why you ignored him outside. He can’t for the life of himself figure out why you’d be angry – did he say something yesterday?

“Nothing,” he replies, and he looks away as his heart beats out of his chest.

You act like that for the whole of practice. For all the pity looks Heather throws his way, you send twice as many glares. It feels like last night never happened, and maybe it didn’t. Maybe it was just a nightmare, and he never told you everything.

He knows you know though, because whenever he puts too much weight on his leg as he demonstrates the movements he has in mind, you clench your jaw. A muscle feathers under your skin, and then you look away. Shame passes on your features, and then it’s gone to be replaced with a scowl.

He’s getting tired of it by the end of practice, so he pulls you aside to talk. Jiho stubbornly stays next to you, until Hobi walks up to her and asks if he can talk to her, probably sensing that Jungkook needs some time alone with you.

You both glare at each other while the others filter out, wishing you good night. Jungkook hears Scottie teasing Lance about meeting up with a girl, and the last thing he hears is Lance telling him to fuck off before everyone is finally out.

It takes almost twenty seconds before you blink and say, “What do you want?”

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, folding his arms on his chest as he cocks an eyebrow.

You scoff. “With me? Nothing. What’s wrong with you?”

Do you know or do you not? He’s a little confused as you just look at him, clearly expecting an answer. He’s dumbfounded – the last thing he expected from telling you everything was you being furious at him.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.

It’s just a back and forth of questions at this point, with no visible answers in the distance. Indeed, you just say, “Do you think you did something wrong?”

It’s absurd, and it makes him laugh. Which, he reckons, might be taken as insulting. And of course you take it the bad way, because how else would you take it?

“You’re so fucking oblivious,” you grumble.

He’s still laughing. He wants to stop, but for some reason he cannot.

“What’s so funny?” you enquire, and your cheeks are turning red.

“Just,” he starts, “I don’t know. The last thing I expected from last night was you getting angry at me.”

You roll your eyes. “If you were looking for pity you won’t get any from me.”

That’s the thing. He doesn’t want any pity from you. And you saying so makes something warm blossom in his chest, and it sobers him up. His face falls serious, and he holds your gaze long enough that you raise your eyebrows in question.

“Thank you,” he says.

You scoff. “You’re fucking weird, Jeon.”

He shrugs. “That’s why you like me, uh?”

Your eyes widen, and you look so appalled he just starts laughing again. “Quite the opposite actually,” you say even though he’s laughing. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats. “I’m just relieved you haven’t changed.”

He really is. You have no idea how much.

“Okay?” you let out, and it sounds like a question. You scoff again, before adding, “Why didn’t you reply to my text?”

Oh, so this is what it’s about. You’re upset because he ignored your text. It feels absurd and stupid and inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, so Jungkook just smiles and shrugs. “I genuinely don’t really want to talk about last night. I’m all okay today.”

And he does think he is, now that he’s talking to you.

You remain silent for a while, pulling at some dry skin on your bottom lip. You then brush a strand of hair that’s fallen from your ponytail behind your ear, nodding your head. “Understood. Won’t be nice to you again.”

“Oh please,” Jungkook teases. “You can’t resist it.”

He’s happy. The more he talks to you, the happier he is. He feels like he’s floating, and he wishes you’d both stay right then and there, in the studio, until the end of time.

He hasn’t felt so light in forever.

“Oh, I can, Jeon.” You fold your arms on your chest, imitating his posture. “Watch me.”

But there’s a teasing glint in your eyes, probably awakened by his own teasing demeanour.

“I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your text,” he apologizes, because he feels like he needs to clear the air with you. He doesn’t want you to be upset with him anymore. “I genuinely didn’t know what to say, and I figured I was going to see you tonight anyway.”

You look away for the first time in the conversation. Your eyes move down, and he’s pretty sure you’re looking at the scar on his stomach. It makes it itch, and if he weren’t with you, he’d scratch it. But he resists, offering you a tight-lipped smile as you look up at his eyes again.

“Well, forget I suggested coffee then,” you say. You wink at him. “I’ll start being a bitch again now.”

“Please do.”

You look startled. “You want me to be a bitch?”

He laughs, scratching the nape of his neck. “No.” He scrunches up his nose, thinking really hard about what he wants to say. Only he doesn’t know what to say. He feels like he’s never talked to you before in his whole life. He can barely remember breaking down in front of you not even twenty-four hours ago. “Yes? Just be your same usual self.”

“Noted,” you say, nodding your head forcefully.

It’s cute, and it makes your ponytail swing behind you. He has half a thought to reach and pull on it, just to annoy you, but he resists.

Instead, he looks around, before resuming his attention on you. “Just, one thing.”

You hold his gaze, cocking an eyebrow in question as you purse your lips. “Mmh?”

“Please don’t tell the others,” he says. It’s a little more serious than he was just a second ago, but he feels like it’s needed to get the point across. “I’d prefer if they didn’t know.”

The corners of your lips stretch into a small, soft smile. “I didn’t plan on telling anyone. I figured you’re the one that should tell them if you want to.” You glance towards the door, and you’re not watching him when you add, “I think Bridget told Heather though. And I don’t know if Heather will remain silent”.

He doesn’t care if Heather tells the others. He just doesn’t want you to do it. It makes no sense, but at the same time it makes all the sense in the world to him.

“Yeah, I think she knows too.” He pulls at his piercing, letting out a small sigh. “I’ll talk to her.”

You nod, and the room falls silent. He wishes he had more to tell you, but it seems you’ve run out of conversation topics, because you eventually wet your lips and say, “Well, I guess I’ll be going home now”. And then you laugh, shaking your head. “I was supposed to leave with Jiho, but I’m pretty sure she’s gone with Hobi.”

“Hobi talked about her for like an hour before we got here,” Jungkook admits, relieved that you provided a topic. “They’re going on a date tomorrow.”

You smile, widely, and he reckons you’re like him. Your friends’ happiness makes you happy, and happiness truly looks good on you. It makes your eyes sparkle, and you look like a kid who’s just received the perfect gift on Christmas morning.

“I know!” you yelp, taking him by surprise when you even clap your hands. “They’re going to the restaurant I suggested.”

There’s something warm in Jungkook’s chest. It just becomes stronger and stronger the more he looks at you, and it makes him feel wary. Enough so that he looks away and tries to tame it down.

“I hope everything will work out for them,” he says, and he scrapes his throat because the warmth is choking him up now.

“I’m sure it will”, you reply, confidently. “Jiho has been into him for like three years now.”

Jungkook feels bad for her, because three years ago Hobi was still with his ex. But it seems patience makes miracles, because she’s getting a date with Hobi now, isn’t she?

It makes Jungkook realize that sometimes, the right person for someone might have been around all along. They’ve just been blind to it. Now, that’s a thought that makes him want to get out of this room. To flee this cloud before it breaks, and he meets your gaze.

You’re watching him already, with a wistful look on your features. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He hates it. Hates everything that your little sentence makes him feel, so he just nods his head, before saying, “It’s getting late, I should hurry if I want to catch the bus”.           

Your eyes widen. “I’ll order you a Lyft, come on.”

“No!” he refuses. “It’s all good.”

“But it’s late,” you insist, and you bend down to grab your phone on your sweater.

It offers Jungkook a straight view to your cleavage, and he freezes, right as pink dusts his cheeks. “I swear,” he reassures you, adding your name before continuing, “I’d rather take the bus. But thank you for the offer.”

You fake-glare at him. “Right, I’m supposed to be a bitch anyway.” You fold your arms on your chest, cocking an eyebrow arrogantly, and you look just like you’ve always looked when you say, “What the fuck are you still doing here? You’re wasting my oxygen.”

It makes the both of you laugh, and Jungkook just shakes his head. “Please, I know you love looking at me.”

You look offended, somehow, and you scoff. “I’d rather gouge my eyeballs out of my head instead of having to look at you for a second longer.”

“Ouch, that was rough.”

“You deserved it.” You shrug your shoulders, before motioning at the door in a swooshing motion. “Now, go lick your wounds somewhere else.”

“Aren’t you leaving too?”

You glare at him now, and you’re so good at it he almost thinks you’re angry. “Why, do you want to walk me home?”

His mouth falls open. Would you let him walk you home? For some reason, he’s pretty sure you’ll punch him if he even suggests it. So instead, he chooses to say, “And suffer the whole way? Nah, I’m good.”

It’s a low-key mention of his injury. You immediately catch on to it, and Jungkook hates the look that takes over your features. He thought that you didn’t have pity for him in you, but it seems you do. You do and it feels like the fist around his heart is back, and the air burns a little.

You seem like you want to say something, but he’s quicker than you.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Jungkook.”

“No, I’m serious, don’t you fucking look at me like that.”

And just like that the light atmosphere shifted back into darkness.

You scoff, shaking your head. “And here I was starting to think that you’re a decent guy. Never mind, Jeon.” You scoff once more, and the corners of your mouth are pulled down in a look of pure disgust. “I’m going home.”

He lets you go. He doesn’t even look at you as you pick up your stuff and leave, not once glancing back.

No matter how enjoyable this interlude in your usual relationship was, Jungkook prefers the usual hate. It’s safer, more comfortable, and a habit that protects him from the vulnerability.

Why then is he staring at your text two hours later in his bed at home, unable to fall asleep, wishing he didn’t say what he did?

In all truth, he knows why, he just doesn’t want to formulate the thought. Doesn’t want to give it the power to exist in the confines of his brain. So he ignores it, shoves the warmth in his chest so far down in the hole occupied by his lost dream that he can’t really feel it anymore.

Only then does he feel safe again, but he still can’t fall asleep.

He hopes you’re not struggling with insomnia as much as he is.

Thursday, June 28th

                The auditions for nationals are in a week. Seven days, and you’re still not sure you’ve mastered the choreography well. You’re anxious – have been for weeks now – and all you want is to lie down on the floor until everything is over.

Which, coincidentally, is what Lance has been doing for the last fifteen minutes, claiming he needed a break from Jungkook. Because Jungkook is worse than Hobi, making you repeat the choreography for stupid unnecessary things like Jiho’s hair was in her face or Scottie’s shirt rode too high while he was doing a certain move.

In May, when you learned about what happened to Jungkook, you had a few days of feeling bad for him. Wishing you didn’t get in a fight with him during that dance practice, wishing your relationship with him wasn’t just hateful.

It feels like there’s been too much history between you for it to ever change. Because you saw a glimpse of something else, for a few minutes that night. Jungkook was more open, calmer, and his expressions were set in a softer look. It was easier to be around him, more enjoyable, and you wished for a fleeting moment that it could last.

Alas, it only lasted a few minutes before he moved back to the harsh look he reserved for you, only because he assumed you were pitying him. Which, maybe you were. You don’t know. It’s hard to tell when you haven’t been through what he has, and when you can tell he suffers.

But you’re not sure if it’s pity or concern. You don’t think he can tell the difference either.

“Lance,” you grumble as you finish the choreography, heart beating out of your chest. “Get the fuck up we need you.”

Lance mumbles something incoherent, before turning his head away from where you’re glaring at him. It makes you look up to catch Jungkook’s gaze, and he immediately looks away the moment your eyes meet. He’s been doing that a lot now too. Where he used to glare at you or smirk insufferably, Jungkook just ignores you.

You don’t think you like it. But you’ve gotten used to it over the course of the last few weeks, so you just roll along with it now.

You’ve kept his secret safe. You thought it would be hard, especially to hide it from Jiho, but after a few days it just became normal. Jiho has more to tell you about Hobi anyway.

Because they’ve found time to go on dates every week since then. Sweet dates, with him picking her up and bringing her flowers and doing things that he knows make her happy. Even at dance practice, everyone can see how they are sickly into each other. You’re happy for Jiho, you really are, but it’s starting to feel a little lonely.

At least you’ve got Jo and the other girls now too. You’ve met the mysterious Kiko now – a sweet girl with the voice of an angel – and your girl’s nights with Jiho have turned into Thirsty Thursdays. You haven’t understood the meaning of the Thirsty yet, considering all of them are dating now, but you just roll along with it.

It’s led to fun nights, and that really is the only thing that matters, right?

Tonight makes no exception. Jiho, Heather and you have dance practice until 10 pm, and then you’re supposed to meet with the girls at a bar on their side of town. Which means you’re already dressed up, though you put on a sports skirt to avoid showing off your ass to the rest of the boys. Not that it would matter – Scottie is not interested in women at all, Lance only has eyes for Chaeyeon now, Hobi is way too respectful for that and Jungkook doesn’t even look at you anymore.

You scoff, glancing away from Jungkook to settle your gaze back on Lance. “Get up,” you repeat, before walking over to him to kick him in the ribs. “Or I’ll tell Chaeyeon how much of a loser you are.”

He fakes offence. “Me, a loser? Nah, we’re going to win this shit.”

The sudden confidence is a boost to everyone’s mood, and soon enough you’re back to dancing, with a much-needed vigor. It’s enough that Jungkook lets you go after you’ve done the choreographies two times more, telling everyone they did a good job.

“Same time Saturday,” he says.

You think you notice him looking at you in the mirror, but as soon as you turn your head in that direction he’s already glanced away, focusing himself on typing something on his phone.

“We know,” Lance says jokingly, before punching Jungkook in the shoulder.

Jungkook snickers, and he deadpans, “You were two hours late last week because you were too busy with your girlfriend”.

“Can’t blame me,” Lance says, shrugging his shoulders. “Chae comes first, the rest of you can suck it up.” It’s cute and endearing, and your heart feels warm as Lance glances your way. You have no idea what brings him to think of that, but he scans the whole room before suggesting, “We should rent a cottage. After the auditions. We should all get shitfaced for three days straight.”

Hobi laughs from where he’s standing next to Jiho. “Scottie is too young for that.”

“Hey, I’m twenty-two!” Scottie exclaims. “I can get shitfaced.”

“You’re a baby,” Heather puts in. “Just accept it. I refuse to acknowledge the fact you are major now.”

Scottie rolls his eyes, placing a sassy fist on his hip. “Then sucks to be you because I am, and I’m going to get shitfaced with Lance. Right?”

Lance has a large grin on his lips. “Damn fucking right.”

“As long as we get a cottage with a hot tub I’m in,” Jiho says innocently. Hobi cocks an eyebrow as he looks at her, as if he didn’t just say Scottie can’t go. “What?” Jiho adds, shrugging her shoulders. “A cottage weekend does sound like fun.”

It does. It really does. You haven’t gone to the countryside in years now, and you can already picture a cute, picturesque cottage on the side of a lake, with a long quay you can lie on and stargaze. The cottage has a fireplace, a circle of rock in the middle of which flames burn at night until they turn to embers and you roast marshmallows on it. You can almost feel the warmth of the hot tub, and the laughter of friends seems to almost overtake your ears…

Yeah, you’re due for a trip out of the city.

“I want marshmallows,” you say, sighing dreamily. “I haven’t had marshmallows since like…”

“Since the camping trip when we were thirteen? When Jisung got shit on by that seagull?”

You burst out laughing at the same time as Jiho does, right as the memory comes back to you. It had been a fun camping trip, with Jiho’s parents renting a camper. They had invited you along on their trip, and you had gone to the beach with them.

Good memories indeed.

Your laughter recedes, and you notice everyone is looking at you. Even Jungkook. His eyes are a little widened, as if he’s surprised, and there’s a light flush on his cheeks when he looks away.

It’s the strangest sight to see, and you’re unable to shake the feeling away while you get ready with Jiho later to rush to the bar where Jo and the others are already waiting for you. Jiho notices your unease as she applies your eyeliner.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” you immediately say, way too fast for it to sound casual.

She just cocks an eyebrow and keeps applying the makeup. At least she has the decency to ignore the blush that creeps on your cheeks.

“It’s just…” you sigh, and turn your head when she starts to work on your second eye. “I don’t know.”

“Jungkook?”

You want to kill her for knowing you so well, so you remain silent, choosing peace over violence.

“I’m going to say something right now that might make you want to kill me,” Jiho says, lips pursed.

“I would advise not saying it,” you mumble and she playfully pats your cheek.

“Don’t move.” You pout, but obey nonetheless. She continues working in silence for a time, before saying, “I know about the accident”.

Your heart stops in your chest, and you’re pretty sure all colours have drained out of your features. You still try to play it cool, saying, “What accident?”

“February last year? Jungkook got injured, then ghosted us. Ring a bell?”

You can’t really pretend you don’t know what she’s talking about, can you? “How do you know?”

“Hobi told me,” she admits. “He made me promise to never talk about it, but he mentioned you knew already.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t blame you for not telling me,” she reassures you, having sensed your discomfort. “Actually, it tells a lot about your relationship with JK that you respected his decision.”

You scoff as she pulls the eyeliner away from your face, putting it down on her vanity to grab her La Neige lip tint. “My relationship with Jungkook? We’re not even friends.”

“Why though?”

It’s a good question that just pisses you off further. “Because he’s a dick. He told me about the accident and got angry at me for looking concerned and then he started ignoring me.” You chuckle bitterly. “It’s not like I’m going to try and make him talk to me. I don’t give a shit about him.”

Jiho is silent for a long time. Far too long for it to be normal. Like she doesn’t believe you at all and is waiting for you to realize. You’re just as stubborn, so you don’t say anything as she puts the lip tint on her pretty lips.

It makes for an awkward two minutes, but she’s the one that breaks first. “You don’t believe that.”

You furrow your brows. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

She laughs. Not in a mean way, probably just because your cheeks are burning and she believes she can read you like the back of her hand. “Because you don’t believe that.”

You fold your arms on your chest, sitting back in the chair she’s forced you to sit in while she did your eyeliner. You remain silent once again, clenching your jaw as you choose not to get upset. You’re not sure it works, and Jiho just playfully punches you on the shoulder.

“Calm down, babe,” she says. “He’s changed.”

“He’s still an ass with me,” you point out. “He’s changed with the rest of you guys, but he’s even worse with me. He’s been completely ignoring me for weeks.”

“Because he’s scared of what you think about him.”

“He doesn’t give a shit about what I think of him? He’s made that clear enough.” Jiho goes back to her infuriating silence. And you don’t want the conversation to keep going in that direction, so you ask, “How has it been going with Hobi anyway?”

She flushes red as she always does whenever Hobi is mentioned. “Do not think this conversation is over,” she says, threatening you with the lip tint bottle. “But it’s been…” She chuckles. “It’s been great. I think we’re pretty much official now.”

It’s disgustingly cute. It makes you think of Lance and Chaeyeon, of Heather and Bridget, Jo and Taehyung and Kiko and Yoongi…

It makes you feel lonely, like Lance did earlier. It’s a feeling you’ve grown accustomed to growing up, so it’s easy to let it slide over you instead of letting it fester inside.

“Look at you,” you say teasingly. “Who knew you’d pull your lifelong crush?”

“Lifelong?” she snickers. “I’ve had a crush on him for like two years.”

You throw a no-bullshit look her way.

“Okay maybe three…”

It makes you both laugh, and it diffuses the situation that was escalating just a moment ago. You’re relieved, because you’re pretty sure if she mentioned Jungkook just once more you would have blown up in her face.

You take shots downstairs with Jisung and Felix before going, and you giggle in the Lyft on the way to the bar the other girls chose. As per usual, you’re the two last to get there – fashionably late is the way to go, right?

It takes you way too long to realize girl’s night will in fact not be girl’s night. Yoongi is the first you notice, maybe because he’s looking at the exit when you walk in, as if he’s just waiting for the right time to bail. He nods as he sees you, and Kiko turns. She smiles her shy smile, the one that doesn’t show her teeth, and she nods as well, almost a copycat of her boyfriend.

Then it’s like a domino effect, and everyone turns to look at you. Nine pairs of eyes, all on you: Jin, Valeria, Taehyung, Jo, Bridget, Heather, Kiko, Yoongi and Jimin. The latter offers you a secretive smile.

You might have been texting him a little. Nothing serious, but he does appear in your dms once in a while, replying to a story you posted. You always decided to ignore him, only liking his replies, but tonight there’s something in the way Park Jimin is looking at you, sitting there, that makes something warm trickle down your spine.

Maybe because of your conversation with Jiho. It’s hard to tell, and your best friend pulls you towards the rest of the group before you can figure it out. The feeling only increases tenfold when you stop next to the table, and Jimin gets up to greet you, quickly followed by the others.

You hug everyone, and Jo holds you a second longer. “Sorry for inviting the rest, Tae begged and I figured…” You pull away from the hug, and she does have a sheepish look on her features. “Thirsty Thursday doesn’t mean no men?”

You laugh at that comment, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

And really, you don’t mind. You like hanging out with them all. You’re relieved they didn’t think to invite Jungkook though, because one thing you’ve figured is that, where Jimin goes Jungkook usually follows.

The night starts off with talking and a few drinks with the group, until you find yourself intoxicated more than you have initially planned to. It doesn’t really matter – you have a day off tomorrow at the internship. Indeed, it only goes from Monday to Thursday, since the lawyer you follow takes the day off on Fridays for the whole of summer.

So you drink, and when they clear a spot for the dancefloor, you let Jiho pull you to it. Let her dance with you, like you usually do when you’re trying to get a guy’s attention. You reckon she’s drunker than you – she’s a giggly mess and she keeps stepping on your feet, which she never usually does. It’s fun, and you feel some anxiety peel away from your skin as if you’re an onion and someone’s about to cut you up to pieces.

You do feel like somebody is about to cut you up to pieces when Jimin moves closer to you, and the smirk on his lips sets something on fire inside of you. Or maybe it’s the alcohol. It doesn’t matter because you pull away from Jiho to move closer to him, almost instinctively.

It’s like he fits like a glove. You face him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him into the dance as his hands find your waist. One of them slips to your back, and he presses you against him as you move to the music, the rhythm a sensual dance between the two of you.

“Hello, you,” he purrs, and you look up at him.

“Hello,” you reply in the same tone, and he makes you spin until your back is facing him. He’s impossibly close and as his hands guide your hips, your eyes trail up.

You entirely stop moving when your gaze meets Jungkook. He’s standing near the door, clad in different clothes than earlier today, but in that same black shade he seems to adore. He also has a chain, with large links that give a rougher vibe to him.

The look on his features is rough too, especially as Jimin leans to speak into your ear. “I thought you might want to piss him off.”

You chuckle, turning your head to gaze at the man behind you over your shoulder. It brings your face way too close to his, and you have to resist the lava in your blood that makes you want to close the gap.

It’s the self-destructive kind of magma, and you don’t feel like indulging in it. Instead, you purr, “Why do you think I’d want to piss him off?”

Jimin chuckles, and you turn your head away from him because damn him, his lips really are inviting. “He’s been a little shit at home. I assume he’s been that way with you too.”

You laugh, and it’s bitter, angry. It surprises even you. “He’s been ignoring me.” You turn in Jimin’s arms, until you’re facing him. You keep your head hung low, enough so that he can’t lean down and press his lips against yours. Jimin is a gentleman though, you know he’d never kiss you without asking for consent first.

“Explains why he’s been a little shit then,” he says matter-of-factly. He straightens a little, putting a comfortable distance between your faces.

“And you think this little show is going to piss him off?”

He smirks, tilting his head to the side. All the while he’s been making you move to the music, and you know to outside gazes you look like you’re flirting. Can planning to piss Jeon Jungkook off count as flirting?

“Oh, I know it will,” Jimin says, shrugging his shoulders. “Jungkook wears his emotions on his face.”

Maybe he does. Around you, his emotion is usually mostly contempt, so you don’t really know.

“What do you gain from pissing him off?” you ask, and you genuinely wonder. What is Jimin trying to do?

“Nothing,” he admits. He purses his lips, before offering you yet another dashing smile. “Mostly I just want to see what he’ll do.”

Jimin pulls you a little closer, and his forehead presses against yours.

“What are you doing?” you murmur, as your heart beats like a hammer against your ribcage. Hell, even if you’re not really into Jimin like that, he’s Park Jimin. You don’t think anyone in their right mind could stay indifferent to him.

“He’s looking right now,” he replies. He chuckles, before saying, “Now, let me tell you what you’re going to do”. His lips move so close to you it feels as if your brain is short-circuiting in your head. “You’re going to act as if I’ve just offended you, and you go to the bathroom.”

“Why?”

“He’ll follow, and maybe he’ll finally…”

Jimin never finishes his sentence. Someone bumps into you, and it breaks the contact between you and him. Instead of pulling you back in, Jimin motions towards the bathroom, offering you an encouraging smile. You’re stunned for a moment, and you hope it does the trick. You hope you really do look offended, because in truth, you were enjoying Jimin’s proximity.

You don’t like that you were. It feels like you shouldn’t be enjoying his proximity at all. He’s not even really your friend anyway.

You don’t have a choice but to follow his advice though, and you turn around, beelining straight to the bathroom. You make your way through the crowd, scrunching up your nose in disgust at the sweaty guy your hand accidentally touched, and a few seconds later you finally find the line to the bathroom.

It’s a unisex bathroom, with three stalls that are currently all occupied. There’s a guy in front of you, and you glare at him as he smiles at you. He frowns, but it works and he turns back around. A stall frees up a little under a minute later, and you’re mindlessly watching a girl washing her hands when a large hand finds the small of your back.

You startle, and you turn around fully ready to knock some sense into whoever it is, until you see it’s Jungkook.

You freeze for a few seconds, and then let out a laugh as you realize whatever Jimin was doing worked.

“You and Jimin, uh,” Jungkook says bitterly, and his hand clenches into a fist where it falls at his side.

You cock your head to the side. “So you’re talking to me now?”

He plays with his piercing in silence, before scoffing. “I was never not talking to you.” You widen your eyes and let out a disbelieved laugh as you fold your arms on your chest. “I’m serious,” he adds. “I just…”

“Don’t even try to explain, Jeon, save your oxygen.”

He’s frowning now, and you reckon he probably has the same expression on his features that you have on yours. “I thought you said you weren’t going to flirt with Jimin.”

“That was over a month ago,” you point out. “People change, unless you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, I know,” he says, chuckling bitterly. “But Jimin? There are dozens of guys in this bar, can’t you just choose someone else to fuck?”

You’re starting to see red. You feel it in the tremble that starts deep down in your core, before taking over the whole of your body. “I’m not going to fuck Jimin. He’s just a friend.”

“You dance with all of your friends like that?”

You turn away from him, hoping one of the stalls will be free now, but you’re in no luck. He grabs your arm, forcing you to turn back around. Your eyes drop to his hand on your arm. His fingers are gentle, way gentler than his features. “Fucking let go of me,” you snap. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t know what part of getting into an accident made you want to act like you’re just a fucking victim of everything around you but my life has nothing to do with yours. Why do you fucking care?”

He looks stunned. “I… What?”

His confusion douses your fury, and you furrow your brows. “What do you mean, what?”

“I don’t care.”

You don’t know who he is trying to convince right now. And you don’t feel like getting to the bottom of it with him. In fact, you really don’t like the look on his face, and you just want to put distance between you and him. So you roll your eyes, before saying, “Alright then, leave me alone, Jeon. I won’t dance with Jimin again.”

He doesn’t even look happy or relieved that you’re saying that. Instead, his features fall a little, moving from a frown to a sad expression that makes something stir in your chest. “I… If you want to get with Jimin, you can.”

Now, you really are confused. “You come here to be a little bitch about this all and now you’re saying it’s fine?”

He pulls at his piercing, and his eyes flicker to the man that walks past you, indicating that a stall must be free now. “Yeah. If that’s what you want, who am I to tell you not to do it?”

You don’t know. You have no idea how the conversation managed to take this turn, so you wet your lips, cocking an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I…” he trails off, shrugging his shoulders. “I was being a dick. You’re right, I should stop acting like I’m a fucking victim.”

Now, your heart really does ache in your chest. Because what you said was inconsiderate, and you don’t even really mean it. Not the way that he interpreted it though, that’s for sure.

“Jungkook…”

“No, it’s really okay,” he says. He still looks sad, but he offers you a tight-lipped smile. “I’m sorry.”

Just like that he’s walking away, and why are you following him? You stop him by grabbing his arm, just like he did to you a moment ago. You hold on to him longer than he did to you, because his skin is warm under your fingers. His tattoos didn’t take away the softness of his skin, and you don’t really want to let him go. Not just yet.

“I didn’t mean it.” You look him in the eyes as he turns just enough so that his gaze can meet yours. “I got angry.”

“No but you’re right,” he insists. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know why I don’t like you talking to Jimin. You can do whatever you want.”

You let his arm go, albeit reluctantly. “If it can reassure you, I am not interested in Jimin like that. Like yes, he’s attractive, but I’m not really looking for a relationship right now.”

At that Jungkook laughs. It’s somehow melancholic, and you reckon you’ve brought his demons to the forefront of his mind tonight. “Jimin-hyung doesn’t do relationships, you’re in luck.”

“No,” you grumble, and you shut your eyes, as if you have to explain something to a thick-headed five years old. “I’m really not interested in Jimin. Like at all.” Your eyelids flutter open, and you catch the movement of Jungkook’s eyes as they snap away from you.

“Okay,” he lets out flatly. “I’m sorry I ruined it.”

He looks genuine. You’d be angry at him if he didn’t really look as genuine as he does right now.

“Nothing’s ruined, I promise,” you reassure him and you offer him a small smile. “I was tired of dancing anyway.”

The word ‘dancing’ has his gaze trail to the dancefloor, and he bites at his piercing before glancing back at you. “Oh.”

You realize this is awkward. Because what you said really seems to have upset Jungkook. And you can’t really blame him, it was low. The only thing is, you’re not close enough to him to make him understand. So all you can do when he says he’s going to head home is wish him goodnight.

You feel horrible as you watch him leave, and he’s only just crossed the doors leading to the world outside when you break into a small jog. You make it outside in a hurry, just to see he’s leaning against the wall next to the door.

He seems startled to see you, and you feel just as startled to see he hasn’t really left yet.

“I was wondering,” you let out, and you take a deep breath to steady yourself. “Are you going to come to the cottage? You didn’t say you would earlier.”

You have no idea why that’s come to your mind, but you’re just going to roll with it.

“Uh.” He glances down at his phone in his hand. “Am I even invited?”

You wet your lips, shrugging. “I mean, you’re part of the crew, of course you are.”

He holds your gaze for so long you think the Earth has time to revolve around the sun once before he speaks again. “Am I really part of the crew?”

You reckon he might need to hear it, so you don’t hesitate when you say, “Of course. We’d be nothing without you.”

At that the sad expression on his features melts away. It does so slowly, starting with his eyes. They crinkle at the corners, sparkling a little, and then it trickles down his face, until the corners of his lips tug upwards. It makes you smile too, and you just gaze at each other like that for a few heartbeats. It feels intimate, miles away from the usual bickering and hatred that you share.

It’s new, but it doesn’t feel scary. Jungkook doesn’t feel scary when he’s smiling softly.

“Yes, I’ll come,” he finally says.

It makes you blink, and it’s like the scene is coming back into focus. You realize there are a couple of people smoking a few meters away, and a soft breeze pushes the smoke towards you. You hate the smell, but somehow you can’t shake the smile from your lips.

“Good.” You nod once, and you glance towards the door. “I guess… I guess I’ll let you go home then.”

He nods too, and he tilts his head to the side. He’s surveying you with those big eyes of his. They shine with stars right now, as if his happiness brings the constellations to his gaze. Or maybe it’s just the reflection from the streetlights and car headlights, but it’s beautiful.

Jungkook has beautiful eyes.

“Just waiting for a Lyft,” he says, motioning up with his phone.

You worry at your lips, before flattening your skirt mindlessly. “Is it going to be here anytime soon?”

He looks at the rectangle of light, face falling serious. It takes him a few seconds, but then he nods. “Yep. Should pull up pretty much now.”

You glance at the two sides of the street, and sure enough a car slows down until it stops in front of you. “Alright then,” you say. “Good night, Jeon.”

You don’t usually say his last name like you said it just now. It feels different, in all the right ways that it can.

“Good night,” he echoes, tentatively adding your name at the end. “I’ll see you at practice Saturday?”

“Yes. See you then.”

You’re grinning like an idiot when you’re home later, thinking of the interaction. It felt refreshing to be with Jungkook like that. As if you can be friends.

You never imagined you would want to be friends with him, but somehow tonight you want it. It only doubles up when a series of texts appears on your screen, hiding the top part of the anime you’re watching in bed before going to sleep.

[3:02 am] unsaved number: lmaooi jmin saud i cockblocled him😂 [3:02 am] unsaved number: cockblocked* [3:02 am] unsaved number: sry im drunk

You laugh softly, turning on your back as you pause the anime. You go to the conversation, and you’re about to reply when he adds,

[3:03 am] unsaved number: plz ignorr this

You don’t hesitate when you save his number under his name.

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

What do we think of this chapter?? Enemies to lovers not too enemies anymore uh? Hope you liked it! Let me know what you thought!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts 2023. Please do not copy, repost or translate.

Taglist: (strike-through means dumblr is not letting me tag you my bad)

@chimchimmarie | @pamzn | @sugaluvmyg | @tearyjjeon | @jkclouds | @libra04 | @parkinglot-nights | @ggukieasy | @omnomnomtron | @jichimx | @synnfulqt | @leedoesntknaur | @pornichett | @melodiesforari | @oopscoop | @nadzzzblog | @amylouisecullen

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

ego, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): jungkook x reader, very brief mentions of yoongi x reader

summary: On the cusp of death (read: hangover), someone recounts the events of last night to you. It sounds serious, but it's not. All you did was fuck Jeon Jungkook on Min Yoongi's bed. Wait, you did WHAT?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; no explicit smut, just descriptions of questionable... acts; heavy alcohol consumption; (adult) crack; possibly? friends-to-lovers

I thought about not posting this bc it's only comedic depravity but it made me laugh so I figured maybe someone else might laugh too XD

--

“I… regret living.”

“Oh, good. You’re awake.”

Light? Horrible. Sound? Distorted. Ow. Pain? Composed a thousand scorpions repeatedly stabbing you in the head or at least the fucking felt like that. And were your sleep paralysis demons holding you down or were you really so tired that you could barely move? Oh. No, it was just someone laying on top of you. A wave of oh fuck shimmered through your internal organs.

“I’m gonna throw up,” you wheezed.

“You better fucking not, because this is my bed,” the familiar raspy voice scolded you. “Also, need I remind you that you hate throwing up.”

Couldn’t argue with that. You fought back the tumultuous wave with several shaky breaths. A straw poked you on the lips. Ow.

“Drink.”

You drank.

What was the liquid? Only the gods knew. Maybe the demons too. You drank without question despite common sense shaking its head at you. Crawling back from death wasn’t easy, okay? The struggle was real. You felt a hand slip under the back of your head and lift it. Oh, very helpful. Long fingers, graceful touch, firm pressure. Familiar. Huh. Raspy voice.

Min Yoongi.

You almost spat, but your blurry vision suddenly cleared to slim pale face and pointed dark brown eyes fiercely glaring, daring you to do something so rude. You did not, perhaps out of sheer fear and shock. Such emotions did wonders (and fuck-ups) to the body. Yoongi sat back up, tossing his head to swish back his long black hair, and placed the glass of misty water on his nightstand, next to the torn-open foil packets. Oh, how nice of him. Hangover meds.

Next to a pile of condoms.

Your eyes widened.

Unopened.

You mistakenly relaxed.

“You fucked Jeon Jungkook on my bed last night.”

Your eyes went full dinner-plates.

Massive-peepers mode.

You choked on nothing but your own shame, which happened to be a whole lot all of sudden.

“WHAT?”

“Actually, fucked is a strong word for what transpired,” Yoongi remarked coolly, looking disturbingly handsome with his messy bedhead, loose black t-shirt, and matching cotton pajama pants. Disturbing because it felt like he was about to describe something deranged. “Got naked and rolled around in the sheets like caught fish, complete with increasing, inexplicable wetness as more time transpired.”

You couldn’t compute anything since your head felt like it was being hammered into an anvil similar to those old-school cartoons, but you could feel the inexplicable urge to, ahem, fuckin’ yeet yourself from this situation. You tried to flail about in attempt to run except Yoongi’s legs were on top of your hips, pinning you in place. While he may look like a scrawny guy, he was not. Tal and slender, yes. Physically weak? Surprisingly not. Also, he reached over and pressed the top of the blanket to your naked chest.

To.

Your.

NAKED?!!

Chest.

Your nipples, for some idiotic reason, were hard and rubbing against his soft duvet – they absolutely did not understand timing. You grimaced and fall back, trying to fuse with the pile of pillows as Yoongi calmly let go and continued with mortifying you in the most deadpan voice possible.

“I believe various body parts went into various holes and then I had to intervene with the condoms, but thankfully – or not thankfully depending on how you look at it – I don’t think either of you noticed that he was unable to finish considering you were both black-out drunk. What you don’t know can’t disappoint you.”

???

“Y… You just told me…?” you croaked.

Yoongi hummed. “I assumed you would want to know why you’re naked and half-dead on my bed without Jeon Jungkook. Although, you are right. Maybe I should have asked if you wanted to know that you smacked him down spread-eagle on and proceeded to lick him all over like a starving dog with their empty food bowl.”

…

You had never thought you would welcome Death, but you welcomed him now. Like, right now. Death, please grant me a heart attack so I don’t have to listen to Min Yoongi describing what he witnessed with visceral detail. Please. PLEASE. You did not die. You felt like you were dying, but you did not die, because of course you wouldn’t. That would free you from–

“Then he proceeded to jack off onto your face, missed, got it in your hair and forehead, then he licked it off and you sucked it out of his mouth. Oh, I guess that means he definitely orgasmed.”

You passed away.

Not actually.

That would be too merciful.

“Y… Yoongi,” you coughed. “Why the fuck were you here?”

“Excuse me?” Raised eyebrow, unamused expression. “This is my bedroom. I’m the one allowed to be here.”

Fair point.

“And you told me to keep an eye on you since this was your first time seriously drinking.”

“K… Keep an eye… means not letting me fuck Jeon Jungkook on your bed!” Instant pain. Oh, shit, too much emotion. Your neck jerked erratically and you groaned, sipping once again as Yoongi and the glass of bliss reappeared.

“Oh,” Yoongi tutted.

Oh.

OH?!?!

You sipped and decided this was the moment. This was the end. You had lived enough life. Curiosity killed the cat after all, and being someone who never drank, you had become too curious about how you would act when drunk. Why not? Live fast, die young, right? You could only be young and dumb once (actually, no, the latter multiple times if you were shameless enough). But you figured this kind of decision was much better to do as your own personal experiment rather than in an environment being pressured by others. No party. Just you, Min Yoongi, and bottles.

Annnd his roommate in the background.

Kim Seokjin. Nice dude. Very tall. Loved games more than most people, probably (valid). Surprisingly chill in a one-on-one conversation (did that mean you were even more energetic than he was?). Worldwide handsome (everyone said so and you accepted that kind of peer pressure). Yeah, go ahead. Use the kitchen. Oh, but that night he was going to invite a couple friends over to eat pizza and play games. Sure, sure. No big deal. Just five other guys besides Seokjin, chilling in the living room and having fun playing Just Dance. All the best vibes. They would come into the kitchen and offer their two cents about your alcohol adventure before going back to the group. Everyone had been mindful and respectful.

You stared into Min Yoongi’s eyes.

He stared back, emotionless.

One might ask, why implore Yoongi for assistance? Because he knew about alcohol and he was only interested in the good stuff. You can get drunk like trash or you can get drunk like royalty. That was a way to look at it, yeah. You could get behind that. You were also very sure that Yoongi would not take advantage. If he wanted to fuck, he would say so to your sober, unhinged self. Not to your drunk, extra unhinged self. It had happened before.

What?

Anyway.

Yoongi removed the straw from your lips and placed the empty glass onto the nightstand. Then he heaved up a large jug of water from the floor and refilled the glass as he calmly asked his question. You stared at him, impressed by this display of power that would not have impressed you if you were less hung over, but any feat of strength was amazing to your swirly brain right now.

“Haven’t you been making googly eyes at Jeon Jungkook or am I mistaken?”

Jeon Jungkook? Yes, of course, he was there. Unlike the others, he got distracted by the bottles and the education presented by alcohol professor Min Yoongi, who had been wearing his black, half-rimmed glasses, of course. Education required him to look the part (not really, Yoongi had been feeling lazy). One moment, you were listening intently and then suddenly you found curious, bright-eyed cuteness sitting next to you and sipping from your cup as you tasted the various poisons. He was not your focus, so you let him do whatever. This was not because you did not think tattooed, pierced, mole-kissed Jeon Jungkook was not hot. Quite the opposite, actually.

You were simply focused on the mission and that mission was a baaaaaaad decision.

Also, Yoongi would become annoyed if you stopped paying attention to him since he was doing you a favor. He would rap you with his knuckles for losing concentration. Jungkook bounced in his seat next to you as you pointed to one of the glasses.

“I like this one.”

“I would not take another sip of that scotch if I were you.”

“You’re not my dad, Yoongi. And you’re not me, because then you would know that telling me I can’t do something is gonna make me want to do it more,” you huffed, taking the small glass and drinking the rest of the dark-colored liquid. You did not wince, because there was something nice about pain and because you had an ego.

Hah.

Yoongi had handed you water. “Didn’t say you couldn’t. Just said I wouldn’t.”

“Wow, that was so cool. Let me try some!”

You were already pouring Jungkook some while verbally prodding at Yoongi some more. “Oh, yeah? Why not, huh? Scared?” So arrogant. For who? Literally nobody but you. You didn’t care what Yoongi thought and you barely registered Jungkook next to you. You were too busy being fiercely possessed by this new fragile power. Your vision was gaining fuzzy edges, foreshadowing what was to come.

Yoongi had only smiled.

“You’ll see.”

You’ll see.

Joke was on Yoongi. You didn’t end up seeing or remembering jack shit.

“I do not make googly eyes at Jeon Jungkook,” you retorted, feeling your blood violently pump into your skull in your attempt to hold your head up to glare at Yoongi. Sheer willpower was keeping you alive. “I just think he has a–”

Yoongi immediately interjected.

“Nice, big, thick…”

Dramatic pause.

“Personality?”

You narrowed your eyes. Actually, that helped the pounding. Less light attacked your retinas this way.

“I think I hate you.”

And here Yoongi went on again with his feline indifference. “I’ll give you a couple more details and then you can make a more informed decision.”

You closed your eyes and groaned. In pain. Both physical and metaphorical.

“I don’t wanna know–”

Number of fucks given? Zero. “So, after taking all those shots and Jungkook trying to two-up you.” Chill? Yoongi had none. “I decide that’s enough and start putting the alcohol away, leaving the two of you to giggle at the kitchen island and compliment each other’s eyes.” He made a disgruntled, scrunched-up face. “Disgusting.”

You gagged and it wasn’t because you were nauseous. Well, you were, but not bodily. At this point anyway. You kept your eyes closed. He’s not speaking. I do not see it. If I do not see it, it’s not real. You kept telling yourself that. It wasn’t helping.

“Stop,” you grunted.

Yoongi did not stop. Didn’t his parents and the internet teach him about consent? “I turn around and you’re climbing his body like he’s a fuckin’ pillar of our nation while he faceplants himself into your tits,” he continued, completely monotone as if this was a calculus lecture and not the story of how you and Jeon Jungkook ended up drunkenly rolling about in Min Yoongi’s sheets. “It was when the clothes started coming off that I figured I should speak up and remind you the kitchen island is for a different kind of eating.”

You didn’t even bother to open your eyes but you were very sure he was staring accusingly at you, but what you didn’t see didn’t exist, or at least that was what fellow idiots liked to say. “You should have pried me off him,” you muttered.

“I distinctly remember you telling me, quote, you’re not my dad.”

Yoongi was definitely not, otherwise you would not have said yes to that time when he asked sober, unhinged you if you wanted to fuck.

What?

Anyway.

“Also,” he added, about to say something that was probably very unnecessary. “I knew it was time to leave the kitchen when you told me to hold your wrists so Jungkook could take off your panties. I politely declined, stating that if hyung walked in right then, he would literally die of a heart attack and I need him to help pay rent.” Yup, not necessary information. Glad he had no interest in killing Kim Seokjin though. Seokjin was a very sweet man. “So, I told you that unless you want to pick up the slack, you’ll have to go somewhere else to boink. Where did you go?”

Oh, God.

“Yes, upstairs to hyung’s room. And yes, you do owe me big time dragging you out of there and shoving you two in here instead.”

That would have been… very uncomfortable. And many things would need to be replaced in the aftermath. Kim Seokjin’s room was full of expensive figurines and limited-edition items. That would have been expensive. At least Yoongi had seen you naked already. Plus, there was some story about Yoongi wearing Jungkook’s (clean) underwear a couple years ago. There must be some closeness between them as friends.

You opened your eyes blearily, seeing Yoongi’s relaxed form sitting at the end of the bed, holding the straw out of the way as he drank water from the glass.

“T… Thanks…”

He glanced at you. Dark brown eyes shrouded by black strands and dark circles. Upper lip ever so slightly upturned in disapproval but overall expression general feline indifference.

Very Yoongi.

“The weird bit was when you and Jungkook told me to stand at the end of the bed while he railed you from behind.”

You closed your eyes again.

“Made me think I should fuck you in front of a mirror, ‘cause apparently you’re a freak.”

“Not as much of a freak as you for watching,” you retorted.

“And let you two puke on each other instead?”

Touché.

“I like my mattress, so, no, thank you.”

What was suffering but listening to Yoongi’s reasonable logic? Sigh. Your face scrunched. Hold on. Something wasn’t adding up. You were here, in Yoongi’s bedroom, listening to him recounting the events of last night while living in a half-life, a cursed life (maybe if you called the hangover that, it would be more bearable) and yet there was a clear space next to you that was completely and utterly empty. You frowned. Opened your eyes, discarding all previous annoyance you had towards Yoongi, snapping your head towards him. His gaze immediately shifted. Locked with yours. Strands of black framing his face, intense and serious.

Electric silence.

“Did… did Jeon Jungkook just fuck me and leave?!”

You might have yelled, but your body was not allowing that bullshit right now. You ended up very sternly wheezing. Nice!

Yoongi tilted his head. “Oh, no. He slept next to you all night. He woke up before you, right there.” He reached over and patted the area right next to you. “Holding your tits and everything.”

This was starting to sound suspicious.

“And I was here.” The Devil, er, rather, Min Yoongi, motioned to the other side of your body, looking peeved. “Barely slept myself with the weird ass noises you two were making. Apparently, you snore when drunk. Impressive lung capacity. Anyway, I had to make sure nobody choked on their vomit while asleep. You should thank me.”

You did not.

You just made another displeased huff.

Yoongi kept talking as if he expected this response. “Jungkook woke up, looked right at me. Looked at you.” He spoke calmly and deliberately, on purpose. Ass. “Then, he ran.” Yoongi thoughtfully chewed on the side of his lip. “His face was pretty red,” he added.

You closed your eyes again. I do not see. “I should have woken up…”

“You were dead and required more resurrection technique than he did. Possible that he wasn’t as drunk as you were and remembered more of what happened. I doubt he got far though, because the second he left the room, he yelped, I heard a crash, and then Hoseok started yelling, so I got up and closed the door.”

You half-laughed and your brain hurt. Guess Jung Hoseok must have stayed over. Great. Another person who knew what happened between you and Jungkook. Awesome. “Why didn’t you help him?”

Yoongi’s reply was, once again, logical.

“You’d be worse off without me.”

A moment of silence.

Mostly for your dignity.

Okay, okay, enough about that.

“Yoongi, I’m… dying.”

“You should eat. I can make you some kimchi fried rice. Or pan-fried tteokbokki. That would probably be good.”

You almost sat up, but then you remembered you were naked. Oop. Also getting up was a bit of a feat without intense emotion. At this point, Yoongi had already gotten up to fetch his slippers while you hobbled and clawed your way up from the mattress like a horror movie creature, all while hugging his blankets to your body.

“Where… are my clothes?”

“On the chair. I washed them.”

You felt a little sick and not because you were hung over. “Oh shit, did I puke on myself? In front of you and Jungkook. Shit. I’m so fucking sorry–”

“No. I just thought you might want some clean clothes.”

“… Oh.”

“Also, we don’t stock panties in this household, so the only way you can get clean ones is to do laundry.”

Haaaah…

“… Don’t say it.”

Yoongi kept his back turned as you wormed your way over to the chair of neatly folded clothes. “Say what?” Very calm. Too calm.

“You know what.”

“That your panties were filthy and soaked?”

A muscle above your eye twitched.

“I don’t hate you. I loathe you.”

“It seems that Jungkook had an intense effect on you.” Deadpan, monotone. Yoongi might as well have been discussing how to find the area beneath a function. Except he wasn’t talking about math. He was being an asshat.

“Loathe entirely,” you hissed, yanking on your clothes.

-

“Oh, hey! You stayed over? How are you? You look rested. Oh, hyung, I have to leave now. I have rehearsals, but I ordered some food that’s on its way right now. Kimchi fried rice and potato soup. Seokjin-hyung’s absolutely dead in his room, so I wouldn’t bother him. He’s getting old, haha!”

Jung Hoseok’s kilowatt, heart-shaped smile shone brighter than most people’s futures. Probably including yours. You had to squint and mumble some kind of response as you attempted endure the embodiment of the living sun that was this golden, tan, bouncy morning person. Could not relate, especially right now. Thankfully Yoongi was doing the talking and thanking. What would you do without him? Not be drunk and be blissfully asleep at home.

Well.

It wasn’t Yoongi’s fault you got drunk.

That was your fault.

No, it’s my ego’s fault!

(No, it was definitely your fault.)

Fuck.

You formed a wobbly thumbs-up to Hoseok as he patted your head and laughed, telling you that you were cute, which was very nice of him but you did not believe it considering that you felt like a sack of potatoes thrown down seventy flights of stairs, but. You know. Hoseok was a nice guy. He would never tell you that you did not look cute out of the goodness of his heart.

You gave him another weak-ass thumbs-up as Hoseok waved from the front door and bounded off into the sunshine.

“How does he do it?” you sighed in awe.

“No idea,” Yoongi hummed, nodding. “He–”

Both of you heard a noise. It sounded like someone colliding with kitchen cabinets. Instead of being startled, both you and Yoongi scurried towards the noise, which very much explained why people died or horror movies – or survived, depending on what you both did upon entering the kitchen and assessing the situation.

Thankfully, the ghost was not a ghost.

“Jungkook?”

The young man leaning over the white kitchen sink had long, wavy black hair, a strong jawline, and plushy cheeks. Cute visible moles on the bridge of his nose, cheek, and under his lower lip. Skin that was usually a light tan but currently a sickly shade of pale green. He was wearing blue cotton long pajamas with tiny adorable angels printed all over them. The shirt was halfway unbuttoned as he held it open and leaned over the sink. The man lifted his head as you said his name. Big dark chocolatey peepers, startled at the intrusion.

Jeon Jungkook croaked something like your name.

Then, he threw up into the sink.

“Ugh, geez, not in front of the lady,” Yoongi chastised, saying the word lady as if it was a very loose label for your current state. Although you were not pleased, you could not protest the truth. “Here let me get you some water and a toothbrush, hah…”

You looked away out of politeness and also because you didn’t want to vomit yourself. Strangely, you felt alright despite definitely not being as fit as Jungkook. Hm, maybe Yoongi had done a good job of taking care of you physically (not mentally, that butthead). You did need to go to the bathroom though after all that hydration. You decided to give Yoongi and Jungkook some privacy as you crab-walked to the downstairs bathroom and emptied your bladder.

You checked the three hairs on your wrist as at least a solid minute went by.

Apparently, your bladder contained a whole goddamn sea, holy fuck.

Anyway, after finishing your business and washing your hands, you left the bathroom for the kitchen to be greeted by semi-shirtless Jungkook sitting at the kitchen island with a big glass of misty water, looking less green and twice as embarrassed. You decided it was time to be the mature one and plopped yourself beside him, patting his back soothingly.

Oh, yeah, and Yoongi was there.

This ain’t about him.

“Hey, you alright? Feel better after barfing?” you quipped.

O-Oh. Word choice there was a little questionable.

Jungkook winced. “Ahahaha… y-yeah…”

You rubbed his back some more. “There, there. I heard food was coming. You’ll feel much better after eating.” You ruffled his black hair. It was nice and soft. He must have showered. “These are Kim Seokjin’s pajamas, right? You didn’t want to get vomit on them, huh? Keke, you’re so considerate, Jungkook. That’s good.” You were talking too much. You were making this awkward. You heard the sizzling of pan-fried tteokbokki. Those big brown eyes were looking everywhere but you. Your mouth was frozen in a politician’s PR smile and you were still rubbing his neck. Jungkook was not stopping you. He was not moving away. His mouth was open. It seemed like he was attempting to form words.

Suddenly, Yoongi appeared with a spatula and spoke directly to you.

“Unlike you, Jungkook remembers everything.”

He disappeared again.

Your hand stopped moving.

Eh?

Birds chirped outside.

Jungkook fixated on a blank spot in the ceiling and didn’t make a peep.

“EHHH?!”

Most people would fling themselves away from the moment but, for some irrational reason, you grabbed Jungkook’s cheeks and shoved his face into your face, shaking his noggin like dehydrated islander checking a fallen coconut.

“You what?”

After his eyeballs stopped rolling in his skull, Jungkook wheezed and slumped in your hands, pulling a long face and puppy expression.

“I… I guess that’s how it is sometimes…”

Well, he was more fit than you. There was probably some difference between the way his body processed alcohol and the way your body processed alcohol. This was your first time. Your body wasn’t used to you willingly poisoning it. Ah, so it made sense. And, oh, what a strange shivery feeling creeping up your legs and back as you held Jungkook’s face. Your fingers fanned his cheeks, smushing them a little, and he was looking back at you, awe and wonderment as if you were different in the light, hey, maybe you didn’t look so bad after all, and then it hit you.

You blinked.

Rapidly.

“Jungkook.”

“Eh?”

“You remember what we did in Yoongi’s room?”

A moment of silence for Jungkook’s dignity.

“A… Ah. Y-Yeah… kinda…? I couldn’t really control myself… b-because I… you… I l-like you…”

You were hearing the sounds he was making but all you could think about was Yoongi saying you pinned Jungkook down and licked him all over like a starving dog. Oh, shit. You slowly let go of his face, feeling the blood drain from your own. Jungkook’s normally strong voice was getting smaller and smaller, until there was no noise at all.

“U… Uh,” you squeaked. “I… I didn’t lick you… right?”

Emotions flashed in his eyes. Apprehension. Confusion. Recognition. Pupils dilating. Definitely knew exactly what you were talking about. Saw the horror in your stricken face. Immediate denial of any recollection in attempt to save your dignity.

“N… No! Did you? N-No, I don’t think, uh, well, I don’t remember such a thing, ahah–”

There was a clatter of a heavily loaded plate and a sudden pointed glare of feline indifference appearing between your and Jungkook’s face. Disapproving black-brown orbs looking straight at you. Held your gaze for several long seconds. Turned slowly. You heard Jungkook gulp as Yoongi made deliberate eye contact with the younger man for even longer, even more excruciating seconds.

Then Yoongi slowly retreated and held up two pairs of chopsticks.

“Eat.”

You sat there and ate pan-fried tteokbokki with Jeon Jungkook as Min Yoongi stared you both down from the other side of the kitchen island, wearing a simple black apron and his glasses.

You leaned closer to Jungkook.

“Why is he staring like that?”

Jungkook mumbled under his breath.

“I don’t know. Keep eating.”

You kept eating. It was spicy, hot, and delicious. It was not a very big plate. It was gone in an instant with Jungkook’s ravenous speed and efficiency. He did make sure you had an ample amount though. The doorbell rang.

Yoongi marched away.

You let out a relieved breath and rested your head against Jungkook’s broad shoulder. “Whew. Why did that feel so stressful?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled beside you, drinking from his glass. “Maybe hyung is mad at me for, uh…”

You waved a hand. “Nah. You would be dead already if Yoongi was mad at you. He strikes when you’re weak.” You spoke from the personal experience you had less than twenty minutes ago. “Besides, it’s just sex, it’s not like you like me or anythin–”

Your mouth froze mid-sentence.

The birds outside chittered even louder.

There was a long whistle of echoey wind against the building.

“Y… You already said you liked me earlier,” you hollowly recalled.

Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly. “U-Uh, yeah. Like you. Not liked.”

This was the moment that you decided not to overdrink again. Not because you regretted having sex with Jungkook. Absolutely not. Even with Yoongi making you look like an idiot (you were who you were, you could accept that). No, the reason you decided better not do that again was because of the next couple minutes. More sober, you could have handled this with a little more finesse.

Oh, how you would look back at these next few minutes and cringe.

“Ah… r-right. Me too. Like you.”

Am I malfunctioning?

“Me like you,” you stuttered out, suddenly an idiot.

“Maybe we should, um… let us move in a more natural direction,” Jungkook offered, ignoring your shitty grammar. Probably didn’t even notice. He scooted his seat closer, holding you up more. You snuck a glance. He was bright red from neck to forehead. “Eat and rest and…”

“Fuck?”

Both of you yelped and clung onto each other as Yoongi showed up with two big bags of fried rice and soup.

“Seems reasonable. I’ll join in this time since you’ll both be sober.”

“What?” you choked as Jungkook grumbled under his breath, “You should have joined in yesterday, hyung. I thought you were going to help me. I was so nervous.”

Eh.

Ehhh?

EHHHHHHH????

The other male held up his hands after placing the two bags on the counter. “Sorry, one of us has to be responsible. You were both drunk. I was fine with watching you two flop all over each other. Soup or fried rice? Ah, we should have the soup since hyung can’t have any.”

“I hate you, Yoongi.”

He did not seem the least bit bothered by your untruthful announcement. “Uh huh, sure, after I did all that work reviving you so you wouldn’t throw up in the sink that the young one here.”

“Hey!”

--

masterpost

[lostfirefly]

Life Must Have It's Mysteries (Ch.7)

Nobody asked me, but the thought of sending my beloved couple on a new journey didn't let me go. Pain continues leading me to art :)

English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :) Masterlist is here.

Description: Buggy and Catherine (OC from my “You’ve Got the Same Dream as Me” series) continue searching for parts of the scepter.

Warnings: Fun, fluff, arguing, sadness, adventure, Buggy's inappropriate jokes, swearing (as always). Shitty shit again:)

Words: 8928 (sorry, this chapter is lo-o-ong, but it was impossible to split it :) Pour some tea and make yourself comfortable ^_^)

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots, @hey-august, @rorywritesjunk, @yujo-nishimura (I hope you still like it!)

The title is taken from “Life Must Have It's Mysteries” by Hans Zimmer (OST Inferno).

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Smack. Smack. Smack.

“Cotton candy, please stop. My head hurts.” Buggy rested his forehead on the table. 

“Someone got too overjoyed yesterday and drank a lot, right? Should I order one more cup of coffee for you, my little bear?” Catherine straightened his ponytail and began stroking his back. 

They were sitting in a roadside cafe early in the morning. 

“I don't remember the drinks, but I remember what you did to me last night, bad, bad girl. You left me powerless, Catherine Mitchell.” Buggy lifted his head from the table and placed it on Catherine's shoulder. She immediately hugged him. 

She blushed. “I don’t understand how this happened. It was your fault.” 

“My fault?” He turned his head towards her and raised his eyebrows. “I’m wildly sorry, but it was you who asked for more and more, and please note that most of the time you were on top of me. And by the way. I wasn't the one who asked..” He started imitating her voice. “Listen, Buggy, are all your parts separated? I never asked you about that. What if you tried to detach your di~~”

Catherine kicked him with her foot.

“Ouch! For what?” 

“I hate you.” She reddened. 

“Yes! First “I hate you” for today.” Buggy snapped his fingers. “Oh, cotton candy, just admit that I’m like an amusement park to you. And the whole atmosphere is turning you on. And you love when I fuc~~” 

She pinched his arm. “Shhh, clown! Not here! We're in a decent place!” 

“Ouch! But I don't want to be silent! Let everyone in this fucking place know what I was doing to you. It was so good. Why should I remain silent?”

“It's called manners, Buggy.” Catherine exclaimed indignantly in a whisper. “People do not discuss intimate life in society. We talked about this too. Remember?” 

“Aw, come on. Where's the fun in that?” He settled under her armpit. “You know, Cathhie-pie, besides our hot nights, do you know what I love most? When... you... you know… you hug me. After sex or when I have breakfast, or when we sit on the couch together, doesn't matter. I lo... I love it so much when you hug me. I don’t feel lonely at times like this. I feel... you know... needed and safe. I want you... you know… to stay with me forever. Will you stay with me? I’ll be happy to be in your arms every day.” Buggy mumbled, closing his eyes. 

“Oh, looks like someone hasn't gotten over his beer yet. I love you too, my Buggy Bear. But you're still in the hangover stage if you're saying that to me aloud.” Catherine called the waitress with her fingers and motioned for two more cups of coffee and pancakes. “I ordered an extra cup of coffee for you and pancakes. You’ll be fine in ten minutes.”  She kissed the top of his head. 

“You always know what I need, my cotton candy. How do you do it?”

“Oh my god, do I have to answer this question?” Catherine laughed and stroked his head. “I don't know. Our relationship is new, but I know you better now. And even though you annoy me sometimes, I’m sure you deserve to be taken care of.”

He exhaled. “You seem like a smart girl, you went to university, read good books and met nice guys, but you got involved in a relationship with some lowlife man.”

“A smart girl knows who she's messing with. And don't say those terrible things about yourself. My heart aches for you. Honestly, I would kill whoever put that shit into your head.” The waitress came to the table and placed the order. “Your coffee and pancakes, my blue-haired jerk.” 

Buggy opened his eyes, sighed and sat up straight. He took a sip of coffee and stuck his fork into a large portion of pancakes. 

“Tasty?” Catherine stroked his head as he munched his breakfast. 

“Yeah. But your pancakes taste a million times better.” He said with a mouth full.

“Chew first, idiot.” Catherine moved her hand to his back and started stroking it. “I’ll make you the biggest portion when we get home.” She kissed him on the cheek. “God, you're so cute. I love you.”

Buggy swallowed the food and blushed. “Aren't you tired of repeating this yet?”

“Nope.” Smack. “You know, if you were a pirate, I could say that you just stole my heart. That's why it's hard for me to control myself sometimes. And that's why I love you so much.” Smack. Smack. “You’re not just the king of my heart, but.. oh, oh! I know! You could be the king of pirates!”

Buggy tensed and became a little anxious. “You're talking about piracy again. Stop telling this shit.” He cut a big piece of pancake with a fork and put it in his mouth. 

“I was joking, why are you so mad?” 

“I’m not mad.” He said with a mouth full. 

“Okay.” She removed her hand from his back. “By the way, while you were sleeping, I leafed through the notes a little and looked at the map. Next we need to move in this direction. But judging by the map, there will be no motels there, and we will have to spend the night in the open air. And on the second part of the scepter there are also some inscriptions. I don't understand their meaning yet, but we'll figure it out. In any case, we need to drive here for three or four hours. I can drive, if you want to rest.” 

“No, I'm fine. Well, I’m done with pancakes.” Buggy put his cap on his head and clapped his hands together. “I'll go fill up the tank. Order me one coffee to go. I'll be right back.”

“Okay.” Catherine kissed him on the cheek, in an attempt to defuse the situation, he silently got up from the table and went outside. Catherine ordered two more large coffees and asked for the bill. The waitress returned a couple of minutes later, and put the check on the table. 

“Five. Seven. Ten. Damn. I'm out of cash.” Catherine checked all the pockets. “Oh, wait!” She saw that Buggy had left his jeans jacket and reached into the inside pocket. “He left it again.” She opened his wallet and took out the required amount of money, 

“25 dollars. That's it now.” The waitress smiled, took the money and left. Catherine noticed her photo in his wallet and decided to take it out to look. “What I didn't expect was to see my photo here. You surprise me, Buggy the Clown. What is this?”

There was one other picture. 

“Fuck, I forgot my wallet. W-What are you doing?” Buggy stared at her.  

“What?” 

“Why are you rummaging through my things?” He pointed at her with his hand. 

“I'm not. The waitress came up with the bill, I didn’t have enough cash, I saw that you forgot your jacket and wallet again, and took money to pay the bill. Then I saw my photo and I wanted to take a closer look. By the way, I’m surprised to see me here. But can you tell me...” She was holding in her hands a photo where he was in prison clothes. “Is this your photo from prison? Why do you keep it?”

“Give it to me!” Buggy snatched the wallet and photographs from her hands. “I asked you not to touch my things.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. Why are you so angry?!” 

“I’m not angry.” He grabbed his jeans jacket and went out. 

“Hey! Wait!” Catherine jumped up, threw her bag over her shoulder and ran after him. She caught up with him on the street. “Hey, you, clown! Stop! What's wrong again? What did I say?” 

“Nothing.” Buggy muttered, leaning on the car. 

“So if I didn't say anything, why are you freaking out?”

“I’m not! Why do you always do this, Catherine?” He hissed through his teeth. “You search and sniff out something. I re-hid everything, and then you found it again. Do you do it on purpose?” 

“Score, Buggy!” She showed her thumb. “You're a master of communication. I'm glad you're scared of me enough that you hide your things.” Catherine opened the car door, grabbed her sweatshirt, and walked toward the café. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Home!” She barked. 

“Are you crazy? We're in the middle of the desert! Come back!” 

“Fuck you! I'll catch the first car I come across and go home. I don't care who will be driving a fishman, a cyborg, or some rubber boy.”

Catherine took a few steps forward and felt his hand grab her bag. “Let me go, Buggy!” The hand pulled her back. “I said, let me go!” She threw back his hand and took three more steps forward. 

She stopped, turned around and looked at him. Buggy looked confused. “Seriously, clown?” Catherine clasped her hands. “Is that all? All you can do to stop me is use your chop chop thing?” 

“What do you expect? So I'd run after you, and the desert wind would ruffle my hair.” Buggy attached his hand back and crossed his arms. 

“It would be nice.” Catherine laughed and took a step forward. “I'm sorry I took your things.” Step. 

“I'm also sorry that you took my things.” He took a step towards her too. 

“Ass.” Step. “I don't want you to be afraid of me.” Step. 

“I just…” Step.

“And if you're worried that I found this fucking prison photo, then I'll surprise you.” Step. 

“How?” Step. 

“Hello, I’m sure we know each other. I’m your girlfriend - Catherine Mitchell, and I don't care.” Step. 

Catherine looked at his surprised face, tiptoed closer, and buried her head in his chest. She took his hand with one hand, hugged his back with the other, and began stroking his palm with her finger. “I’m not stupid, Buggy. I know that you’re hiding something from me. Well, you were in prison, so what. I don't give a shit. I'm sure you're not some kind of maniac. Maybe you stole geese.” She laughed. “When you’ll be ready to talk about your past, then we’ll talk, okay? We discussed it, remember? You can tell me anything you want, only when you’re ready.” 

“Fine.” Buggy hugged her. 

“So, you're not angry at me anymore? Are we okay?” She snuggled closer to him.

“Yeah.” He kissed the top of her head. “I forgot to say, cotton candy, I like your braid you're wearing today.”

“Thanks! We look alike today, right? By the way, you are very hot in that photo. And you keep me in your wallet.” Catherine raised her head and looked into his eyes. “That means I take a special spot in your heart, right?” 

“Please don't make me say the obvious, little shit.” He stroked her cheek. “Better tell me, where are we going?” 

⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭

“Judging by your reaction, we are near something interesting.” Buggy looked at Catherine, who was squealing again as she sat on the ground. 

“I'm going crazy now!” She clenched her fists, closed her eyes and started kicking her legs. 

“Just now?” 

“Don't mock me, clown! Do you know what this is?” Catherine pointed at the pyramid with white outer casing stone at the very top. 

“Why do you ask all the time if you know the answer? Cathie-pie, everything is simple with us. You tell me where to go, I will take you there. And where I’m taking you, to be honest, I barely understand.” Buggy scratched his cheek. 

“This's the Pyramid of Khafre!!” She pulled his hand and he plopped down next to her.

“Geeez, woman!” He snatched his severed hand from her hands. “Pull more carefully! And I have no idea who this Kha-what-is-his-name is.”

“Khafre was the son of Cheops.” Catherine grabbed Buggy by the shoulder and started shaking him

“Whose son?” He glanced at her with a surprise look. 

“Oh, god! I live with an idiot! Cheops was one of the famous kings.” Catherine rolled her eyes. “And this's the second-tallest pyramid in the world. You live here, how can you not know this?”

“Cotton candy, dead dudes buried under a ton of sand don't interest me until I know they can make me rich.” 

“You know, this pyramid is unique in that the remains of the original cladding have been preserved in its upper part!! I can't beli-i-eve-e-e!!” Catherine fell on her back and began kicking her legs, squealing. She rolled onto her buttocks, looked at Buggy and threw herself on his neck with a squeal. “Love!” Smack. “Love!” Smack. “Love, love, love you!” Smack. Smack. Smack. “I'm so glad I can share this adventure with you!” Smack. Smack. 

“I'm glad that I can bring you so much joy, not only in bed. If you know what I mean.” Buggy giggled idiotically and hugged Catherine around her waist. 

“You're disgusting!” She sat on the ground and started stroking his hand. 

“I thought we figured out that a long time ago.” Buggy lightly snapped Catherine’s nose. “So, my Egyptian girl, where should we go?” 

“Oh, sure!” She pulled out a map and notepad from her bag and placed them on her lap. “So, let me look. To the right. To the left. You will be surprised, my blue-haired love, but we're gonna look for the burial room again.” 

“Lord, these pharaohs had no imagination.” He rolled his eyes. 

“What do you think, part of the secret scepter will lie somewhere at the entrance under your feet?” 

“It would be nice.” 

“No, everything is simple here. The pharaohs believed that after death they would become gods, so they built themselves huge tombs to place everything they needed for life in the afterlife.” Catherine ran her finger over the map. “You see? Now we will pass through the valley of the temples. But there is one problem. The only entrance that is indicated in the records is on the eastern side. And there are also a lot of tourists here, since this pyramid is part of the most popular route.” 

“Oh, if it means we can hide behind the sarcophagus again, and you'll be on top of me, then I don't mind tourists.” Buggy winked. 

Catherine looked at him, narrowing her eyes. “How did I even get in touch with you?” 

“You just couldn't resist my charm!” Buggy lay down on the sand with his hand behind his head. 

“Charm? Are you kidding me? You'd been tormenting and pissing me off for days!”

“So in the end, I was able to conquer you.” He poked Catherine in the side with his finger. 

“And I don't understand how it happened.” She looked at him and ran her hand over his ponytail. “So. Shall we go?” 

Buggy stood up and offered her his hand. Catherine kissed him on the nose, hearing another “stop it” in response, and put the papers in her bag. They took with them water, flashlights and small hatchets. They walked slowly and reached the entrance to the alley of temples. 

“Damn. We have to buy a ticket to get in. Really?” Catherine rolled her eyes.

“Huh, I've never had to buy a ticket to see someone and then rob that someone later.” Buggy scratched his head. 

Catherine took his hand and pulled him towards the cash register, trying not to attract too much attention. They bought tickets and went towards the alley of temples. 

“You didn't have to grab my ass while we were standing in line.” Catherine said as she held the tickets in her hands.

“I didn't do anything. It wasn't me. It was someone else.” Buggy shrugged his shoulders. 

“Yeah, lie more, you would have killed that someone else on the spot. Okay, now you and I will walk through the alley, and from there we will go into the pyramid. But since there are so many people here, we may have to stay longer somewhere to take a close look. I will tell you something, and you pretend that you don’t understand and want to look at something better.”

“Geeez! I don’t even need to pretend that I don’t understand.” 

They entered the territory. Catherine happily showed and told Buggy about the Sphinx, the history of the pyramid and the temples. He looked at her with admiration. They went to the valley, which was built with huge limestone stones, its walls were covered with sixteen blocks of red-pink granite. The floor of the temple was laid out of alabaster stones and the lobby was open to the sky. 

“Look, look!” Catherine tugged at Buggy's hand. “Do you see these traces near the columns? Khafre’s monuments stood here.”

“Apparently, he was everyone’s favorite, since his Egyptian people helped him build such an alley.” He looked at the walls with interest. 

“Actually no. He was a tyrant and was considered one of the bloodiest rulers. I think he was just a piece of shit. Oh, oh! See!” Catherine pointed her hand at the columns. “You see that light? This light penetrated into the temple through holes in the ceiling, and illuminated each statue. That’s so amazing. Can you believe that this is the real history of mankind? Oh, my blue-haired love, thank you so, so much for this trip.” 

Buggy hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “Always welcome.” He was glad to see her happy face, but he was afraid of saying it to her. 

“Sorry, I’m too emotional.” Catherine clapped her hands. “Okay! Let’s check where we should go next!” She took out a map and a notepad, ran her fingers over the sheets, and felt Buggy put his chin on her shoulder. 

She reached her hand and scratched his head. “Look. Inside, everything is quite simple, there are only two passages that will lead us to the tomb. We need the lower one. Also, the notes say that there we need to look for a “sign of the soul” and I don’t yet understand what it means.”

Catherine took Buggy’s hand and dragged him to the lower entrance, which began at about ground level. As they entered the short descending pass through the lower entrance, they descended until the passageway levels off. This was a way, which looked like almost a hallway, with a large empty recess in the wall on the left side. To the right, across from the recess, was a short descending passageway leading to a chamber. 

“There is no sarcophagus here. Only a pointed ceiling. And you see, there are almost no drawings on the walls at all. The decoration is quite simple. Apparently this Khafre had a bad imagination. This chamber may have served for storage of offering material or treasure.” Catherine looked carefully at the ceiling. “Wait! You see? Do you see the drawing there? Something like stars, similar to the constellation Ursa Major. To tell the truth, this is the only constellation that I can identify. It was used to designate g~. Quiet!” She fell silent abruptly when a group of tourists entered the room. 

They began to wander around the chamber and Catherine told the story of the pyramid.

“Shh, go to her. Ask her, she seems to know something.” Catherine heard a whisper behind her.

“Sorry!” Someone tapped her on the back with a finger. Catherine turned around and saw a slim young man. He wore a yellow hoodie, with black sleeves and black hood, and a northern-style fur hat.

“It seems my friend and I are a little lost.” The man pointed his finger at a man, wearing a beige overall, and a black cap with a yellow brim. “And you tell the story of the pyramid so beautifully that it seemed to me that you could help us. Oh! Where are my manners? My name is Trafalgar Law, and this is my friend Penguin.” He extended his hand.

“Catherine. Catherine Mitchell.” She extended her hand to him, which Law immediately kissed. Catherine quickly pulled her hand back. “And this’s my almost husband Buggy.” She looked at Buggy, who was turning red with jealousy.

“Nice to meet you, Catherine. We came on vacation and decided to explore the local sightseeing. But no one told me that among the old, decrepit mummies I would meet a beautiful, smart girl.” Law smiled. “Anyway. We’re looking for this room. I’ve never seen burial rooms, I really want to see them. Sounds interesting. Can you tell me where it is?” He showed the map that was handed out at the entrance to the pyramids and unfolded it in front of Catherine. 

“Yes, of course. Look. You now need to go straight along the corridor, then turn to the right, then left again, and you will come out to the sarcophagus.” 

“Thank you, beauty!” He took her hand again and kissed it. 

“Listen, Traffic Slaw or whatever your name is. Stop grabbing my hand. This is the way you need to go!” She pointed her finger towards the passage. 

Law and his friend shrugged and walked away. Catherine took Buggy's hand, the grinding of whose teeth seemed to be heard throughout Egypt, and began to run her finger over his palm. 

“Are you okay?” She asked quietly. 

“Yeah. Just another handsome man decided to flirt with you at the bottom of the pyramid. This kind of thing happens all the time.” Buggy grumbled under his breath. 

“I love it when you're jealous.” She kissed him on the cheek. 

“I’m not jealous! A shitty bastard grabbing your hands. This is absolutely normal. Big deal!” 

“Liar!” She kissed him on his cheek. “Okay! Let’s get back to our search. I showed you a drawing of a constellation. This is how the god Amset was depicted before. But I still can’t understand why he’s here. His tail points towards the same path where these guys went. But as I told you, there aren't many ways around here. So let's go, my blue-haired love.” She tiptoed, kissed him on the nose and dragged him further along the corridors.

They left the chamber and turned to the right. At the end of the passageway lies a ramp which ascends into the next hallway. They climbed the ramp, and saw the rough dressed granite lined passageway that leads back up to the higher entrance on the north side. 

“Yes! You see? This way will lead us to the main burial chamber.” Catherine whispered. She took a flashlight out of her bag, turned it on and shined it on the walls. 

“And who is this?” Buggy pointed to the drawings on the wall. “Some kind of winged dude.”

“Where?” Catherine ran up to the drawing and shone the light on it. “Oh my god! It's not a winged dude, Buggy. It's Ba! Do you know who this is?” She looked at him with a smile. 

“Cotton candy, seriously! Are you kidding me, or is this your strange way of bullying?” 

“Ba was considered a life essence and was depicted as a bird with the head of a man. Wow!” Catherine carefully moved her hand over the drawing. “Wait.. The sign of soul. It’s.. Quiet!” 

They saw the light of lanterns flashing around the bend, and soon another group of tourists appeared. Catherine started telling stories again about the drawings she had seen on the wall. The tourists stood in one place for a long time, sighing joyfully, looking at the drawings, and finally left.

Catherine began to look at the wall again. “That's why the sign of the soul. Ba is the soul of a person. Look. The wings of the bird are pointing in that direction. Towards the tomb. Wait.” She pulled out the map and notes again. “You see? This path is indicated on the map. So we are going right.” She jumped up happily and clapped her hands. 

Catherine grabbed Buggy’s hand and took him further. They reached a chamber which was long and wide. There was a black granite sarcophagus in this room, in that it was built to be sunken into the floor. The lid, which was no longer attached, lay propped up next to the coffer near the wall.

“What the fuck?” Buggy asked loudly, looking at the sarcophagus. “It’s opened!”.

“Be quiet, young man!” An old woman from a tourist group was standing nearby, muttered with displeasure and hit Buggy on the leg with her cane. “Learn some manners!” 

“You're old fu~” Buggy looked at Catherine and suddenly fell silent.

The whole scene made her laugh. “I’m sorry, mam. He's just very happy to see the sarcophagus.”

“Idiots!” The woman mumbled. 

Catherine couldn't stop laughing, Buggy looked at her dissatisfied. “Oh, I’m sorry, my silly clown. That was so funny.” She hugged him and noticed how the old woman shook her head, glancing at them.

While the group of tourists remained in the room for some time, Catherine started telling stories about myths and the pyramid again. Finally, the tourists left.

“So what now?” Buggy asked in a whisper. “This thing is open, there are no traces of this fucking pharaoh. Our journey was in vain? Are you sure that the third part of the scepter is here? Maybe this is the wrong pyramid?” 

“Don’t ramble, clown! Give me a minute.” She sat down on the sand and took out her notes. “We're definitely in the right place and the right pyramid. Wait! The drawing of Ba, according to myths, should be on the sarcophagus.” She jumped and ran to the coffin. “I’ll check the frame, you inspect the lid. Look for the bird with a human head.”

“Fuck! Every Egyptian god here has the head of a bird. How will I recognize him?!” Buggy mumbled, took another flashlight from Catherine's bag and walked over to the lid. “Damn, it's heavy!” He took it and began to carefully turn the lid. 

“You are so strong, my love!” Catherine watched as Buggy blushed. “Found anything?” “Wait! Not yet!” He moved the flashlight over the lid. “I don't see the bird, but I see something which looks like a drawing of a man with a crown on his head, and his arms raised up.”

“Where? Where?” She ran up behind him and climbed onto his back.

“Oh, I wish I could be behind you right now. If you know what I mean.” He grinned and felt Catherine slapped him on the head. “Ouch!”

“Stop thinking only about sex, Buggy! Please, focus on our case!”

“It's very hard to think about our case when you're sitting on me, cotton candy.” He laughed idiotically. “Look, this guy with his hands. Is he important?” 

Catherine leaned her head over his shoulder. “It's Ka!” She started kicking her legs. “Look, look! Here is the inscription on the lid. 

“Do I live or die, Osiris. 

I enter and reappear through you. 

I disintegrate in you. 

I grow in you. 

I am not destroyed.”

This is the prayer of the soul. You’re doing great!” She kissed him in the temple and saw him blushed again. 

She jumped off his back and began walking in circles, waving her arms. “Ba, Ka.. Ka is the life force. According to the beliefs of the ancient Egyptians, Ka lives in a statue of a person or god. Ba is the soul and consisted of the totality of a person’s feelings and emotions. But Ka remained in the burial vault.”

Buggy kept a close eye on Catherine, who paced back and forth, muttering something under her breath and had little idea what she was talking about. 

“Amset! That's why there was Amset's symbol! And that's why there's a constellation on the ceiling again!” Catherine stopped abruptly and stared at Buggy. “Amset was one of the sons of Horus, and he was responsible for preserving the soul. Do you understand?”

“Actually, not very much.” He shook his head. 

Catherine waved her hand at him and continued to wander from side to side. “Wait. We found the first half of the scepter in the pyramid, in which the gods were responsible for birth. In the second, where the gods were responsible for death. Do you understand what I'm getting at?” Catherine looked at Buggy.

“That... I don’t know. That the Egyptians had many gods.. for all occasions?” He shrugged. 

“No, idiot! This part of the scepter is responsible for life. If you put all the parts of the scepter together, they seem to reflect the life cycle, you know? Birth, life, death.”

Buggy scratched his head. “But we don't have the third part of the scepter!”

“The myths say that Amset comes to illuminate the Ka's path.” Catherine began running her hands along the walls again. “Wait. There are more drawings here. This is Sakh. This is a human body. This’s Ib - the heart. It was believed that the heart was formed at the moment of conception and the whole life was imprinted on it. Think, Catherine, think.” She walked up to Buggy, looked at him, and buried the top of her head in his chest. “I don't know. I don't understand.”

He gently placed his hands on her back. “You know everything.”

“I don't know.”

“Cathie-pie, you're the smartest girl I've ever met. Seriously! You know everything. Calm down and think.”

Catherine flopped to the ground and took down her notes again. She sat on the floor for a long time and muttered something under her breath. Buggy sat down next to her and looked at her with interest. He didn’t notice how he gently touched her hand with his fingertips while she was moving it over the paper.

“Don't distract me, Buggy.” She smiled slightly. 

“I don’t…” He abruptly removed his hand and blushed. He glanced at the wall and felt her hand run through his hair.

“No, no!” Catherine flipped through the pages. “Oh! Wait! The notes say that the sky must touch the earth in order to close the cycle of life. What does this mean?” 

“I hate Egypt.” Buggy stood up. “ Why can't they just write how easy to find anything? Why did they have to bury something somewhere and come up with stupid clues for it? It would be easier if it was like, “Hey, Buggy, here's the key to my treasure. Take it and enjoy your life!” He kicked the wall. “Crap!” 

“Did you hit it hard?” Catherine looked at him with concern.

“No, I’m fine.” He glanced at the floor. “Hey, Cathie-pie, there’s also the same pattern under your feet, similar to the one on the ceiling. Why did they do it twice?” 

“Where, where?” She jumped up and ran to him. 

“Here.” He pointed to the floor. “I don't understand your Egyptian shit, but doesn't it look like what's pictured there.” He glanced at the ceiling.

Catherine looked at the floor and ceiling. “Interesting!” She touched parts of the drawing on the floor. “These things are clicking.”

“Wow, the Egyptians are so original. Every second thing in their fucking pyramids moves or clicks.” Buggy rolled his eyes and said sarcastically.

“Sh-h-h! Wait! Amset is responsible for the soul. That is, from the earth to the sky. We just need to click the drawing on the floor to create the Ursa Major. And you see this drawing on the floor? This is a variation on the star clock. They were used for night services in temples or ritual ceremonies.”

“You know, I think you should'd been out more, cotton candy. “ Buggy exhaled sadly. 

“Screw you! Okay! The drawing is located as if the clock is one in the morning. According to myths, Amset comes to the soul at one o'clock in the morning. It's easy!” Catherine clapped her hands and squealed. 

Buggy looked at her without blinking. “Yeah, much easier.”

“See all those drawings on the wall? This is what a person has during life. Heart, shadow, soul. But the sign of the soul itself stands directly under the constellation. I'll open my notes now, I need to see what the Ursa Major looks like so that we don't confuse anything.” Catherine took out a notebook and began to compare the drawing on the floor, ceiling and in the notes. She began to show Buggy with her hand which slab should be clicked. 

“So what now?” He asked, clicking the last slab in place. 

“I don’t know.” Catherine ran her hand along the walls. 

“Maybe we assembled it wrong?” Buggy sat down on the floor.

“No, it’s impossible. Everything matches completely. But wait. What if.. The constellation doesn’t all appear at once, right? It clearly appears in pieces. What if we assembled it exactly in the order in which the brightest stars begin to appear, and then all the rest? But I have no idea how this happens. Maybe this…” She heard him begin to click the slabs. “How are you?.. What are you doing?” 

“I'm clicking this fucking thing in the order you just said.” Buggy muttered under his breath.

“But how do you know the order?” Catherine watched him with round eyes. 

“Well, let’s just say that at one point in my life it came in handy.” 

“You are full of secrets and mysteries, clown.” She watched with interest as he clicked small plates. 

“Something like that.” He dusted off his hands, sat on the floor and looked at her. “What?” 

“Nothing. You did great!” Catherine ran her hand over his head. 

“So what now?” 

“I don't know.” She ran her hand over the clock’s drawing and heard a crash. 

“What did you do?” Buggy looked at the wall. 

“I don't know.” Catherine ran her hand and pressed the sign of the soul. They watched without stopping as the hatch in the floor opened. 

“What's there?” Buggy stuck his head into the crack and narrowed his eyes. “There's something there. Stairs and some kind of black box in the center.” 

“Let me see.” Catherine sat down and lowered her head into the crack. “I'm ready to bet anything, but I'm sure there's a third... Quiet. Do you hear? Steps again! Oh, people, are you serious?! Okay! We stand still and block this passage with ourselves.” 

The two of them quickly rose from the ground and as soon as they stood on the wall, a family with a child entered the hall. The child, seeing the clown, was very happy and began to pester Buggy with questions about whether he could do it right now a dog from a balloon, does his nose honk, why does he look so strange. 

“I'll kill the little shit myself!” He hissed, kicking the child away. 

“Why are they still here? This is one of the most boring burial chambers I've ever seen!” Catherine asked Buggy in a whisper, glancing at the family, who were walking in circles. “Oh! I don't believe I'm saying this, but grab my ass. Maybe they will feel embarrassed and leave the room?” 

“Oh, with all the pleasure!” Buggy giggled idiotically and at that same second, Catherine felt his hand on her buttocks. She blushed and glanced at the family. They reddened and quickly left the chamber, covering the child's eyes. 

“Great! The child saw the clown grabbing my ass!” Catherine covered her red face with her hands. 

“Oh, come on! He will be fine. Let him see it better now, judging by his dad, he doesn’t even know about such things.” Buddy smiled widely. 

“I hate you. We ruined his life.” She mumbled in her palms. 

“Just the second "I hate you." Honey, you're late today.” Buggy removed Catherine’s hands from her face.  “Focus, Cathie-pie!”

“Oh, yes!” She rubbed her hands, sat down on her knees and looked through the crack again. “Shall we go there?” 

“What? No! I won't let you in there, I'll check it myself.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Listen, I may be a coward sometimes, but never in my life will I allow you to climb into some small room into which a passage opened in the old pyramid.” He blushed, walked down the stairs and walked towards the black box. “This is not a box, Catherine. Another sarcophagus. I’ll try to open it with the hatchet.” He whispered, took out the hatchet and tried to open the lid of the sarcophagus. “Doesn’t work. Do you have any brilliant ideas how can I open it?”

“Wait! I have something written down in a notebook.” She quickly took out the notes. “Not that. Not that. I found! I found it!” She lowered her head to the crack and began to read. 

“Osiris goes to his essence, 

Set goes to his essence, 

He who has the eye ahead goes to his essence. 

And you go to your essence. 

Your purity is the purity of the gods, going to their essences. 

Your purity is the purity of the gods, who departed so as not to experience suffering.”

Essence is the soul. Is there something with a soul sign there? We need to help Amset find Ka and Ba, and he will lead them to the kingdom of the dead.”

“Wait! Here on the lid are this guy with his hands up, your bird and the other one you were talking about. Also, a bird. But the first one's arms are down.” 

“Try to raise them. And I have it written down that Ka and Ba need to turn towards Amset. In general, move the man with the hands and the bird towards the man with the bird's head, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

Catherine looked through the gap behind him. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yes. Wait, those guys are heavy. J-j-ust.. One. Moment. Yes! Fucking gods. Turned it around. What’s next?” 

“Wait a minute! So..” She heard a noise and looked through the crack again. “What is it? What have you done?” 

“I didn't do anything! These Egyptian guys clicked, and it seems the lid opened. Wait!” Catherine heard Buggy groan as he pulled back the lid and began rummaging through the sarcophagus. “Why do these things stink. Fuck, the smell is disgusting. Wait! Cathie-pie!” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, baby! I think, I found it!” Buggy was joyfully twirling part of the scepter in his hands when he heard a crash. “What was that?” 

“I don't know…” Catherine looked around. “Shit! The passage is closing! Get back quickly!” 

“Fuck!” Buggy quickly ran to the stairs. 

“Damn you, Egyptians pharaohs and your traps!” Catherine tried to hold the closing stone. 

“Damn. I’ve dropped the scepter!” 

“Fuck this shit! Get out!!” 

“Already picked it up, don’t worry!” 

“This shit is closing!” Catherine watched as Buggy ran to the stairs and began to climb. “Come on! I don't know how to hold back the Egyptian doors!” 

“I'm coming!” As soon as he got out, the passage slammed shut. “A couple more seconds, and you could become the widow of the clown pharaoh, cotton candy.” Buggy said, sitting down on the ground. 

“Idiot!” She hit him in the shoulder. “You could have used your chop chop thing to get out faster!” She hit him once again and hugged him.  “Are you okay?!” 

“You just beat me up, and you're asking me if I'm okay?”

“Don’t ever do that again, please!” Catherine hugged Buggy tightly and kissed his temple. “Next time use your chop chop thing. I don't want you to stay in some fucking Egyptian trap.”

“Cathie-pie, I’m Buggy the Clown. I would have found a way out anyway. And by the way! Is this what we were looking for?” He joyfully turned the part of the scepter in his hand.

⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭

“You know, cotton candy, I think it's going to rain.” Buggy squinted at the sky. 

“Yes, you and I are lucky. To manage to get caught in a rare rain in the desert.” Catherine hugged him from behind, “Well, we don’t have many options. Or sit in the rain, but I don’t know how this will affect you. I don't want you to get hurt. Actually, we have food and booze. We can settle into the car and spend the night in it. Sounds interesting, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then get everything we need from the trunk, I’ll fry the sausages before it rains.” 

While Buggy was dragging the plaid, pillow, snacks, and beer into the car from the trunk, Catherine quickly build a fire and fry sausages. 

“Do you need help?” He asked, approaching her. 

“No, I'm almost done. Get in the car, it's about to start raining.” Catherine drove him away with a branch. “Shoo, clown!” 

As soon as it started to rain, she grabbed the sausages, threw them into the box and ran squealing into the car. 

“Haha, I made it!” Catherine placed the box on the panel. “So, what do we have here? Warm french fries. See? I told you that buying a thermal bag was a cool idea. Chips, cookies, grapes, chocolate, beer.” She brushed her slightly wet hair out of her face and felt his hands pushing her wet braid back. 

“You're soaked.” Buggy took off his sweatshirt and threw it on her.

“Who? Me? No. I’m fine. Let's start. Bread, sausage, and lots and lots of ketchup and mustard for my little bear.” She quickly made a hot dog and put it in his hands. “Eat. You're hungry.” 

“Yes!” He took a bite of the hot dog. “I got you a blanket and a pillow, they are lying in the back seat.” 

“Thanks! You’re so caring.”

Catherine watched as he contentedly chewed his hot dog and washed it down with beer. “Tasty?” She stroked his head. He nodded, taking a bite of the sausage. 

“Shit, I need to change my t-shirt. The one I’m wearing right now is still damp.” She crawled from the front seat to the back. “Oh, I see your t-shirt is here, I’ll take it. And don’t look at me in the rearview mirror.” 

Catherine took off his sweatshirt, began taking off her t-shirt and glanced at Buggy, who was already staring at the mirror. “Hey! What did I tell you?” 

“I’m not looking at you. I’m looking at.. At cars and camels. Over there.” He pointed his finger at nowhere. “You just can't see them because of the rain.”

“Jackass!” She changed the t-shirt, put his sweatshirt back on, sat on her knees in the back seat and leaned forward. “Give me french fries.” Buggy calmly handed her a box of potatoes and put two sausages in it. 

“Thank you!” She kissed him on his cheek, took the beer from his hands and took a sip. “Bliss! Well, I guess we're stuck here until morning. It's not worth driving on sand in the rain, and you need to rest.” 

“Apparently, yes.” He grabbed the bottle back. 

“Well, at least your car is comfortable.” Catherine pecked him on the cheek a few more times, and quickly put several potato sticks in her mouth. 

“What's wrong with you? Why do you always do this?” Buggy tried his best to appear dissatisfied.

“I just love my little bear.” She stroked his shoulder. “I’m so happy that I spend time with you searching for treasures. Who would have told me about this a year ago, when I was working in the library and dating Mickie Squicky.” Catherine watched as Buggy’s face tensed and changed.

“Squicky? Life punished him. And what did you do with that Minty?” 

“He's Mickie. Nothing special. Regular dates, you know. We went to the movies, for walks, and kissed.” She watched him blush under all his makeup. 

“That's all? Did you do something else?” Buggy asked dryly and began to tap his fingers on the bottle.

“I love when you're jealous.” Catherine smiled widely, lightly tapped her fingertips on his shoulder, and kissed his cheek. 

“I'm not jealous!”

“Yeah, yeah. I don't believe you. You are already as red as your nose and if you met Mickie now, you would strangle him.” 

“I told you, I’m not jealous. I don't care if some Milty took you around the parks, hugged you or maybe saw you naked. I’m totally fine with that.” Buggy took a sip of beer and began to move his finger along the steering wheel. 

“My blue-haired liar.” Catherine ruffled his hair and took grapes with chocolate. She leaned back, crossing her legs. 

Buggy finished his hot dog and, holding the bottle in his hands, made himself comfortable in the front seat. “Fuck, yeah. Are you okay there, Cathie-pie?” 

“Hey, why are you sitting there? Come to me.” 

Buggy looked at her in bewilderment. 

“The two of us could easily fit here. Wait!” Catherine put a pillow on the door. “Here! That's better! I'm waiting for you, little bear. Come here.” 

He looked at the back seat again. “Okay. Just hold the beer.” Buggy gave her the bottle in her hands and climbed into the back seat.

Bam!

“Fuck, I hit my head.” He said, sitting down on the seat. 

“Does it hurt?” Catherine ran her hand over his head. “Let me see.” 

“Nah, everything is fine.” He gently put her hand away.

She pecked him on his lips. Buggy leaned his back on the pillow and Catherine quickly sat down between his legs, pressing her back to his chest. He hugged her with his arm. 

“That's better.” She took a sip of his beer and put a grape in her mouth. “Chocolate?” She handed him a candy bar. 

He took it and bit. “Yummy.”

“You know, our treasure hunt reminds me of my father. He and I were very close. You know, we constantly went to all sorts of archaeological exhibitions. He brought interesting articles that he found during his journalist trips and imagined how we would travel around Egypt and find some ancient inscriptions. I remember we were sitting in the park one day, eating ice cream, and he was sad that his daughter would someday marry a boring guy who wouldn’t go beyond his own home. He and I were already planning a trip to Egypt, when suddenly his heart stopped. It was hard for all of us to cope with the loss. I felt very lonely after his death, to be honest.” Catherine felt he hugged her tightly. “My mother loved him so much. She died a year later on the day of his death. Oh, Buggy, it was such a big love. I've only read about feelings like that in stupid novels.”

“How did they meet?” He took the beer from her hands and took a sip. 

“My mom was brought to the party at the bar by her friend. She was drinking a punch when she saw a guy, standing near the bar counter, with such a huge bouffant on his head. He was wearing a leather jacket and suspenders. She said his hair looked like a tumbleweed, although my father said he looked cool. He came up to meet her, but she rejected him. My mom said she thought he was an asshole. My dad spent a month trying to get a date with her. He met her near the university and work, she worked as a cashier in a cinema. But one day he climbed into her bedroom with lilac branches. And, apparently, she saw something in him. Then they got married, moved to Loguetown, and then my sister and I were born.”

“Near the bar? And seemed like an asshole? Sounds familiar.”

“Yeah. My sister said the same. But I don't understand why she said so. I just know my father would be glad to meet you. I hope he is now looking at me from heaven and rejoicing. His daughter found a sexy man with whom she travels around the pyramids and looks for something that may not exist.” Catherine felt how Buggy hugged her tightly and pressed his cheek to her temple. “I’m so happy I have you in my life.” She gently placed her hand on his head. “Shit, I made you sad.” 

“Nah, it’s fine. You miss someone important to you.” He kissed her temple. “Listen.. Cathie-pie, can.. can I ask you a question?” He took a sip. 

“Sure!” She stroked his cheek. 

“You mentioned that one.. Mickie. All these guys.. Did you lo.. At what age did you start going on dates?” Buggy cleared his throat. “Apparently, you had a lot of boyfriends. This doesn't surprise me, because.. you know.. You are smart and beautiful. But I'm surprised you didn't find a nice guy there.”

“It seemed to me that you wanted to ask something else. But ok! I started going on dates when I was 15, I guess.” She took the bottle from his hands and took a sip. “And no, I didn’t love them. Well, that is, at the age of 16 it seemed to me that I did. But then I was a teenager, so.. Even when I was 25-27 years old, I don’t think I was in love with anyone. What, you're afraid I treated everyone like you?”

“I.. I don't kn~~. I don't th~~ Never mind.” He took the bottle back. 

“No, my blue-haired love, you're special to me! Remember that, okay?” Catherine scratched his arm with her fingers. “What about you? You probably had a lot of girls. Tell me at least a little, I’m so interested in what you had in your life before we met. I promise not to be jealous. But if you don’t want to talk at all, then fine.”

“Well, it was hard to call it a relationship. Just meetings for one or two nights. Just.. you know.. not be alone sometimes. I don’t know. Who needs me?”  

“I hate it when you say that. You’re funny and handsome. I don’t really understand where the girls were looking. Were they blind or what? But on the other hand, I got you, so I won.” She ate a grape and put two berries in his mouth. “It's not easy to be with you, but I’ll handle it.” 

“I hope you won't leave me because of this.” Buggy sighed heavily. 

“Of course no. Oh! You know what sitting with you here reminds me of? The day when we in the corridor when the door was blocked. Remember?”

“Oh, the day when I had my second click.” 

“Wha-a-t? Really?!” She asked surprised.

“Fuck! Did I let it slip again? How did you do that, little shit?! Well, yeah. You were examining my head after my fight with Crocodile and you looked at me.. you know.. Somehow special.”

“Wait. So both clicks were when I showed concern to you?”

Buggy was nervous. “I guess. You.. You were so kind and your arms were.. you know.. so warm. It was so nice to feel your.. you know.. touch. And then you told me you don’t like me, and settled under my armpit. I was confused and didn't know what to do. Because, you know.. It's not every day that I find myself locked in a hallway with a beautiful girl. But that was.. was nice. And I thought “oh, no, maybe ask her out on a date.” 

“Said the man who took me to the airport later.” Catherine scratched his hand. 

“How long will it take you to remember this for me?” 

“I'm planning for a year now. Maybe two. Didn’t you understand then that I fell in love with you?”

“I don’t know. Your concern was new to me. And this is still new. Do you remember, I promised to take you to the circus? Well, you know.. I wanted to ask.. ask you out, to be honest. But your sister came.” Buggy began to worry and felt Catherine took his hand. “I.. I wasn't sure you'd agree. And I didn’t think that such a beautiful girl could.. you know… love me. I thought you'd fly home, I’d suffer a little and move on with my life.”

“Because you're a fool. It's good that you have me now. Otherwise, you would sit on your bed and cry into the pillow.” 

“I don't cry into my pillow, I'm a grown man.”

“You cried three weeks ago because the acrobats weren't doing well at rehearsal.” She stroked his arms. “Thank you so much. I was happy to hear that. I know how was hard for you to say that. I’m so, so proud of you!” 

Catherine was silent for a moment, stroking his arm. “Do you hear that? The rain is pattering on the roof. God, I'm about to burst from the romance of the moment.” She laughed until she cried. “You'll have to explain to my sister why I no longer exist. Catherine loved her clown so much that she couldn't stand one of the most romantic moments of her life, and she exploded. And excuse me, all that was left of her were socks.”

“No, you have to survive somehow, I still need you in my life.” Buggy kissed her temple. 

“Of course you need me. Who's gonna feed you?”

“What, you think I'm with you just for the food? Believe me, there are much more interesting things I like to do with you. Not just breakfast.” 

“You're disgusting. And I love you so, so much, my Buggy Bear. You know that?”

“First time I’ve heard it. And could you please change that terrible nickname? I think you've mocked me enough already.”

“No! Stop whining. I like your nickname. And my silly clown.”

“I’m listening, my Cathie-pie.”

“I don't know how you're doing it in this position, but stop grabbing my ass.”

[copiaslilrat]

Riding in the Shadows Behind You: Chapter 2

Sibling Eros and Copia form a pact and Copia reveals just how much of a romantic he can be. More blood is drank, and horniness ensures. Nobody seems to know how big Copia's dick is, but Eros has a pretty good idea.

Read here or on AO3 | Read Chapter 1 here or on AO3, as well.

Content: Copia/Dracopia x Original NB Character, fluff and smut (18+), vampires, watch two awkward idiots slowly fall in love and fuck about it, literally nothing bad happens /gen, no plot all vibes

Eros wakes up the next morning feeling as though they have the mother of all hangovers. They blink several times to clear the blurry haze from their eyes and realize that they are in an unfamiliar bedroom. Sunlight streams in through a crack in the blackout curtains, which are otherwise drawn entirely shut.

When they hear Copia humming softly in the next room over, the events of last night come tumbling back with visceral clarity. They make an attempt to stand, succeed, but then take two steps and fall flat on their face as their legs give out beneath them.

Copia huries into the bedroom at the sudden nose and makes a soft sound of surprise when he sees them laying on the floor. He helps them to their feet and guides them back to his spacious bed. “Maybe do not try to do that, for now.”

Eros nods in whole-hearted agreement. Copia leaves the room and returns a moment later with a large glass of water that Eros funnels down within seconds.

Copia chuckles nervously and rubs the back of his head. “I apologize for last night. I seemed to have gotten carried away.”

Eros shakes their head and immediately regrets the sharp movement. “No need to apologize, Cardinal. I was the one who asked for more.”

He offers a sheepish smile and sits down on the bed at their feet. He is dressed more casually today, in red sweatpants and matching zip-up hoodie with a black shirt underneath. “Please call me Copia. I think that formalities might a bit unnecessary after last night, hm?”

“Copia,” Eros repeats. They find that they like the sound and feel of it rolling off of their tongue and are wholly unsure of what to think about that.

He nods. “I know last night was, eh, last night , but I enjoyed myself up until the part where you went unconscious. I hope you did too. I think you are quite lovely, Eros,” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “I would very much like to call upon you again the next time that I need to feed, if you are willing.”

Eros blushes at the offer. They recall the look in his eyes when he said he liked the way they tasted, the feel of his hips grinding against theirs, and just the general intense pleasure of it all. “I am very much willing, yes.” Trying not to sound over-eager in their new, tentative relationship, they follow up with, “How often do you need to feed?”

“Ideally, every few days or so, but I usually go longer without it on account of the guilt.” His mismatched gaze meets theirs, and Eros notes the sadness behind his eyes. “Nobody has ever been willing before.”

They lean forward slightly and take his hand in theirs. “Trust me when I say that you can feed from me whenever you need to. I am more than happy to oblige.”

Copia’s expression brightens. He gives their hand a gentle squeeze. “That means a lot to me. Grazie , Eros."

Days pass in what feels like agonizing torture as Eros waits for Copia to seek them out. Many times, while alone at night, they have considered many times the prospect of showing up at his chambers and throwing themself at him just to experience what they had the other night again.

They return to their dormitory late one night after doing more research for Papa Terzo in the library to find a note slipped under the door.

“When you read this, come find me in the chapel. I will be waiting for you. -C”

Eros’ heart hitches in their chest. Like a star-crossed lover receiving a letter from their sweetheart, they lift the letter to their face and inhale. It smells like paper and ink. They aren’t sure why they should have expected anything otherwise, but a small part them was hoping it smelled like Copia.

They discard their cassock and don their classic tank top and trousers combination. They readjust their hair and touch up their eye makeup as if it’s not going to get messed up again when Copia feeds from them anyway. The chapel is an interesting venue to choose to do this in—it’s not nearly as private as his chambers, but maybe he felt weird having someone who is effectively a stranger in his personal space.

As satisfied with their appearance as they can be, they make a small hum at their reflection in the mirror on their vanity and exit the Sibling dormitory area.

The chapel is located directly behind the abbey. It’s a gorgeous old building that’s been around since before even the abbey was built. Nobody knows exactly how old the Satanic Ministry is, but the general consensus is that the organization is very, very, very old.

Eros pushes open the old, creaky doors. Carved into the wood is a large, intricate scene depicting Lucifer reigning over his demons in Hell. The chapel does not rely on modern electricity aside from a giant chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling. The rest of the lighting relies on the sun and the moon and what must be thousands of candles that stay perpetually lit thanks to a bit of magic. The moon is obscured behind clouds tonight, so the chapel is filled with soft, warm light. Incense smoke hangs thick in the air, mingling with the smell of old but well-kept wood.

Eros walks down the long aisleway to where they can see Copia’s figure knelt before an altar of Baphomet. Their footfalls are silent on the runner rug that runs the length from doors to the altar, but Copia looks over his shoulder as he hears their approach anyway.

“ Buona notte , Eros.” He greets with a soft, nervous smile. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“Hey, I benefit as much from this as you do. I think.” They reciprocate his smile. “Besides, I’ve had a few days to recover from last time. But maybe we should avoid making me pass out again. I’d hate for you to have to carry me back to the abbey.”

There’s a certain confidence to his gait that Eros hasn’t seen before as his lithe form stalks towards them. They find it quite unfair that a man his age has such spectacular thighs, accented only by pants so tight that they look painted on. “Do not worry. I think I have a better understanding of what your body can withstand now.”

“Can I ask why you wanted to meet me here this time?”

Eros’s already-racing heart practically leaps out of their chest when Copia reaches out and ghosts a gloved hand across their cheek. “Ambiance, caro .”

The only response they can muster is a soft, surprised whimper. His hand slides to their chin and gently pulls their face towards his until their noses brush together.

“I didn’t know that you were interested in me like this,” Eros whispers.

“I have seen you around the abbey before, and you have always caught my eye. Only a fool would not find you handsome.”

Their face flushes. “You flatter me, Copia, but I’m nothing special.”

His expression darkens at their self-deprecation. His mouth moves infinitesimally closer to theirs, his hand still cupping their chin. “ Caro , you are anything but.”

The tension between them pulls taut, threatening to snap at the smallest movement. The warm candlelight accents the peaks and planes of Copia’s face, darkness obscuring the rest. He looks like a figure from a Renaissance painting, rendered in chiaroscuro by a master artist. The chapel is completely silent aside from the sounds of their soft, steady breathing.

“May I kiss you, Eros?” Copia asks.

Eros could fuck him right there just for having the courtesy to even ask. Their voice is breathy, hardly a whisper. “Yes.”

He closes the small gap between their mouths, capturing their lips in a soft, gentle kiss before pulling back slightly. “Was that okay?”

Eros responds by pressing their mouth against his, firmer this time, to which Copia responds by inhaling deeply as his reciprocates. His hands slide to Eros’ waist, resting on the curve of their hips as their arms wrap around his neck. They kiss, slowly and deeply for several moments, before Copia starts to back them up against the altar.

“I need taste you again, caro ,” Copia purrs against their lips before dropping a line of rough kisses along their jaw and down to the pulse point on their neck. He hisses softly as he feels their heartbeat through the delicate flesh. “ P er favore...y ou are so tempting..."

Eros sighs softly, already dazed with lust just at the thought of being fed from. They incline their neck to give him easier access. “Please, Copia…” Just like last time, there’s a brief moment of pain, but the feeling is quickly overtaken by pleasure as Copia starts to pull blood from their neck. “Oh, fuck. ”

Copia presses up tightly against them, forcing their bodies flush. Eros curses the layers of clothes between them, wanting nothing more in this moment than to feel his skin on theirs. Copia drinks hungrily, his tongue occasionally swiping against their neck, not wanting to waste a single drop of them, each flicker sending a fresh shudder through their body.

Eros is completely soaked through after just a few moments, and Copia is similarly turned on, his cock occasionally kicking inside of his pants, begging to be freed and buried deep inside of them. Eros considers the idea of insitgating something sexual, but decides against it although the tiny, horny voice in the back of their head says that they should do otherwise. Copia’s hand slides down and between their thighs, but his grip stays firm on the soft flesh while his other hand cradles their head for support.

After what feels like too much time and also not nearly long enough, Copia removes his fangs from their neck. He licks a stripe over the wound, sealing it closed to hide the marks and to prevent blood from trickling onto their clothes, before planting a few soft kisses over it. He tilts his head upright and cups Eros’ head in his hands so that he can gaze into their eyes.

“Ta-da…” he murmurs with a small, satisfied smile. His pupils are still blown wide with bloodlust.

Eros laughs softly, only slightly dizzy from the lust and blood loss, and plants a lingering kiss on his lips. The sensation of tasting their blood on his lips is foreign, but it’s far from the weirdest thing they’ve had in their mouth in this abbey. The unresolved lust gradually dissipates from their bodies as they hold each other; they are simply enjoying the close proximity after sharing such an intense moment.

“How do you feel, caro ?” Copia asks softly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on their cheek.

“Good. Better than good. Amazing, really.”

Copia smiles at this. “I am glad to hear that.” After a beat, he gives them a sudden thoughtful look. “I do recognize that these meetings have been about satisfying my needs, and I would be lying if I said I did not feel a sense of guilt over it. Is there anything at all that I can offer you in exchange?”

Their face flushes as endless possibilities run through their mind, but they decide to take it slow so as not to startle either of them. “If you’re interested, maybe we could…spend some time together? Outside of this?” Copia’s eyebrows raise at their suggestion. “But, uh, only if you want to.”

He flashes them a wide smile, and they notice a very apparent lack of fangs. Maybe they only come out when he needs to feed. They make a note to ask him at a later time. “ Va bene. I would very much enjoy getting to get to know you better, Eros.” Copia plants a tender kiss on their forehead. “But for more, I am sure you are tired. May I walk you back to your room?”

Two of Eros’ Siblings are seated in the common room when Copia drops Eros off. While there are no restrictions about Ministry staff can do with each other, Eros still feels flustered at the sight of being seen this late at night with Copia. He seems just as nervous, tense at their side. 

“Eh, buona notte, sorelli ,” Copia offers.

The Siblings greet him in return with varying degrees of enthusiasm, their eyes flickering curiously between him and Eros. Copia gives Eros a friendly pat on the shoulder—an incongruous gesture compared to what they had been doing not even a half hour ago—and they laugh inwardly as their attempt to be inconspicuous is anything but that.

“Goodnight, Cardinal. Thank you for seeing me back to my room,” Eros says with an air of formality, but tries to communicate something softer with their eyes.

Copia seems to recieve the message. His gaze is soft in return as he offers a polite nod. “ Buona notte , Sibling Eros.”

When Copia leaves, Eros immediately beelines for their room, but one of their Sisters, Harlowe, catches their attention. “Uh, what was that?”

They swear under their breath and turn around to face her with a clipped smile. They and Harlowe are on good terms, but they wouldn’t consider her a friend. She’s short and slender and has a majestic, blacklight purple mane of curls. During they day she dons a Satanic Ministry nun’s habit, but at night she always wears a cropped tank top and impossibly comfortable-looking sweatpants.

“What do you mean?” Eros asks, feigning ignorance.

“You and the Cardinal, huh?” She presses with a knowing smile and leans forward on the floor cushion she’s seated on. “There’s no way something’s not going on with you two.”

Is there something going on between them? Eros has no idea. They’ve only been alone twice for a short amount of time, but the strange intimacy of their encounters probably counts for something. “He needed help with ritual prep in the chapel.”

Harlowe narrows her eyes suspiciously before sharing a glance two other Siblings in the room. “Alright, but if you start fucking, you’re going to have to spill the deets. We’ve always wanted to know if the Cardinal’s packing.”

Eros is surprised that she doesn’t know. They’ve personally never seen any of the Papas’ dicks before, but they’ve heard enough tales of sexual encounters from other Siblings that they could probably draw them from memory if someone asked. “Surely somebody knows?”

Harlowe shakes her head. “Cardinal Copia doesn’t sleep around much. I’m not surprised, given how introverted he is. I suppose that’s why you two seem to get along so well.”

“I, uh…yeah.” Eros replies, feeling rather lame about it.

“You’re looking a little pale, Eros. Are you alright?” Sibling Rosaleth asks either out of genuine concern or as a way to give them an out of this conversation, and Eros is grateful for either.

I suppose that I would be, on account of the major blood loss. “Just a little tired, I think. I’m gonna go to sleep.”

Satisfied with that answer, they bid their Siblings goodnight and strip down to their underwear. Laying in bed in the dark, the dregs of unresolved lust start to build in their core again. They readjust several times, trying to get comfortable while debating if it’s appropriate to touch themself to the thought of someone they’ve only met twice.

In the end, they decide that sleep will not be happening without some sort of release, and so their fingers get to work. The normal methods don’t seem to be working, so they swallow their doubt and a small amount of their pride as they let their mind fantasize about Copia. They know exactly what’s in his pants from the couple of times they’ve felt it press up against them, and while he may not be as lascivious as the Papas, they have no doubt that he knows how to use it. They imagine his gloved thumb on their clit as he fucks them slowly and deeply, his low voice purring sweet nothings into their ear, calling them a good boy…

They finish within seconds, clapping their free hand over their mouth to muffle their uncharacteristically loud cries of pleasure as they ride out the waves of their orgasm on their own fingers.

Ah, fuck.

[g0dspeeed]

A Taste

John Seed told her he was simply "curious". A hookup with her ex's sibling proves to Cappie De la Costa that there might be more to it than that.

Sexual content ahead

Cappie couldn't tell what it was that stirred her, but upon feeling something warm tickle her inner thigh, she knew the answer wasn't a complicated one. 

Her head rose from the cold, wood floor, the effort sending it swimming with the familiar aches of a hangover, all to regard a very sleepy, very naked, John Seed snoozing between her legs, his cheek rested on the soft skin of her inner thigh and breath fluttering against her sex.

"The fuck?"

Voice was raw and her throat stung, the act of swallowing monumental for Cappie. Everything hurt from her thighs, her neck, and her arms. As she laid out on her back, her bare skin was chilled by what she recognized to be the floor of his bedroom. Their clothes were scattered about the sunlit room amongst broken wine glasses, a knocked over crystal decanter beside what she guessed was a puddle of bourbon, countless cigarette butts, a lotion bottle, two dabs, condom wrappers–

Her green eyes zeroed in on the last items, the scraps of thin foil.

"No…"

"Oh, yes."

Horrified, Cappie stared down at the bright blue eyes peering up from the apex of her thighs, unaffected by his position inches from her pussy.

"Good morning," he crooned in a rasp. 

John then had the audacity to regard her crotch, eyes hooded and dreamy.

"Good morning to you, too," he whispered.

Her legs snapped shut, closing his head in a vice grip. Twisting her hips was all it would take to end John's life, to crack his neck, but Cappie had enough impulse control to override the automatic thought.

"Don't ever talk to my pussy again," she hissed.

The hold loosened and of course John responded to her warning with a grin.

"Last night teemed with riveting conversation, at least what I recall. And I can still taste you. I hope I don't forget–"

His words were cut off as Cappie made a move to rise from the floor with shaking legs.

She could feel John scrutinize her, and when her own eyes observed where his landed, Cappie flinched.

Her skin was a muddied canvas of their late night affairs. Bruises the size of fingertips speckled her wrists, hips, shoulders, and thighs, along with a smathering of suck marks all over her neck, breasts, and legs. Cappie became aware of the burning sensation at the cheeks of her ass, no doubt that the flesh there, too, would bear a gallery of–

"You're disgusted."

The words were spoken aloud with a smile, but Cappie was observant, too. In his voice lived an anger. The voice stirred with accusation in it's cadence.

So she laughed.

"Nah, ain't disgusted," she breezed. "Just shocked, I guess."

His smile faltered, and in the rare speechlessness of one John Seed, Cappie saw her own handiwork. His skin bloomed with bruises, scratches, and nips of teeth, a trail of hickeys from his neck to the border of his sparse, pubic hair. Her brows lifted at the line of purple on his right wrist.

"Kinky shit," she blurted.

"Hardly," he sniffed. "But your enthusiasm was certainly enamoring."

"Oh, enamoring? Ha! You were pretty excited yourself there, pretty boy."

John rose from the floor, his joints popping as he straightened and stretched. He chuckled at the way her cheeks warmed, at the coyness daylight brought.

Cappie De La Costa was far from his typical interest. Lean with the toned frame of an athlete that had no business for someone who drank and smoked so much, she lacked the softness John usually found himself drawn to, save for her full ass, he could admit. 

Blunt, brazen, and impulsive. An arbiter of mischief and a grater of his nerves, she repulsed him on purpose and flirted with his temper.

Never would admit it to her face, but John, too, found himself shocked at how erotic their coupling was the night before, his mind supplying images and sensations from the fun and games in rapid fire.

"Maybe I still am," chided John, his eyes drifting over her breasts and sex. Cappie could see how his pupils already started to swallow the blue.

Not to be outdone, Cappie took a step closer. Their smiles matched, devilish and wont for tasting, as her hand reached out to cup his balls and tug at his half hard cock. She relished in the small gasp that left him.

"Sure you are," challenged Cappie. "All talk–"

Fingers then dug into her scalp as John pulled her mouth to his, his trim nails tangling her hair and scraping the tender skin. The kiss hurt before she allowed him more access, his tongue urgent as a groan hummed in his throat.

Their kiss broke as Cappie moved back to the untouched bed, her thighs hitting the edge of the king sized mattress and the cool softness of the navy silk topper. John allowed no more than a foot between them, already following and making her move up the mattress in a rush, blue eyes committing to memory the way her chest rose and fell with hardened nipples, green eyes dilated, and how that signature cheeky smile spread across her plump lips. His own latched on to her throat as Cappie settled back with a sigh, enthused as she gasped when his fingers, those twitchy things, dipped to her sex and found her wet. He sucked hard on her pulse to leave a bruise atop a bruise.

Cappie writhed at his touch, at how he worked her quick and to the point without any fanfare. That's how it was the night before, she remembered, between dabbles of substance use they fucked each other into oblivion, smearing pleasure and pain like watercolors. 

Dark locks of hair were gripped in her hand to yank John away from her throat. The muscles in his face twisted at the discomfort.

"Just do it," she groaned in the shell of his ear. Her hips rolled, starving for stimulation and earning a circling of her clit with the heel of his palm. "Just, just do it–"

John silenced her with his mouth again before rasping, "Take a deep breath."

Cappie did just that as his cock shoved all the way inside her, leaving no time for adjusting. She arched at how he filled her, at the sting of his fingernails in her thighs, the heat of his own gasp.

"Fuck! " he bit out with clenched eyes.

She laughed something breathy and cupped his cheek.

"You almost lost it, didn't you?" Cappie teased, rolling into him. "Almost came like a, like a fucking teenager–"

His hips snapped, burying himself deeper, and shutting Cappie up.

"Please," mocked John while moving to seat her in his lap, lifting her so he could kneel on both knees. "Don't flatter yourself."

The annoyance in his features fell away with each thrust and the lift of her cries.

He knew what he was doing, Cappie could give John that much, and boy was he a sight. 

Locks of dark hair that were typically stylized in top dollar pomade stuck to the sheen of sweat on his forehead, if not falling over blackened, hooded eyes. The gallery of scars and tattoos glistened in the sun, flesh flush and lean muscle flexing underneath. His full lips, swollen from her own, gaped as he worshiped her, at their joining, at the way John made her breasts bounce with each harsh snap of the hips and the little curses that fell from her mouth like prayers.

And when John caught her, caught Cappie marveling at his body, at the fullness, the friction, drunk on how he made her feel, his pace slowed.

"I get it now," he breathed.

Fingers rubbed at her clit, harsh, forcing her eyes shut and her body to arch.

"I get what all the hype was about. Why Jacob neglected his part so much. You're fucking addicting."

In a last ditch effort to shut John up and to chase that delicious end that he teased so well at her core, Cappie shifted her leg to rest against his shoulder. A warm hand steaded her thigh, grip tight and massaging the thick muscle. John spread Cappie to slot himself with a sloppy kiss against her calf.

A flicker of uncertainty, a foreign thing that didn't seem to belong there, danced across the features of John's face.

Cappie smirked and pat his hip.

"Spit it out, Johnny."

Little crescents joined the bruises on her legs, a punishment for her teasing, she knew, but Cappie didn't care. Her emerald eyes held their playful light, much to John's chagrin, and didn't break the magnetism in the pull of his stare.

"You can."

The words were small and quiet.

But she said them again.

"You can," she whispered with a roll of the hips. "Just fucking fuck me ,  John, Christ."

Never until meeting John Seed did Cappie see madness spread like wildfire so fast in the mind. It overcame him the moment her words registered, in the blues of his eyes, the twitch of his lips, the pace quickening and brutal. The fire that had dulled from his uncertainty roared as his heated body crowded hers, as he folded her because holding her leg just wasn't enough, John had to kiss her, to bite her, to taste her as he buried himself deeper and deeper.

Cappie came in a cry, in writhing, and against a rough kiss. 

A hand snatched her jaw, forcing her to face him, to witness. 

In her sweaty, twitchy high Cappie grinned up at John, watching as his face twisted and his hips stuttered, becoming erratic and wild like his thoughts. He came against her throat, against her fluttering pulse, buried inside her and with a sharp 'Fuck'. John all but collapsed on Cappie, panting and running an open palm up and down her body.

Green eyes observed the elaborate woodwork of his bedroom ceiling, at the twisted iron of the overhead light. Dramatic, but Cappie didn't know why she was surprised.

John still was inside her, softening and quivering. His arms trembled, but he seemed resolved to make their coupling last.

Her tongue wet her lips before she spoke.

"Never thought you as a cuddler–"

"And I never thought you to be so quick to move on from a breakup, but alas, I don't want to let you go. Don't think I could now."

She winced at the wetness of his pulling out, at his victorious smile, and how his words both excited and wounded her tender feelings at the same time.

John laid on his side to hold her face in the palm of his hand, against the scarred cheek to loom over, to pick through her thoughts like a scavenging animal. 

"A stranger to tenderness, aren't you?" she replied. 

He laughed, but there is no humor in the echoes of his high ceilings.

"You're deflecting," cooed John.

"Mm-hm–"

"Horribly so."

"'Kay, ass, then why did you come to the Spread Eagle last night?"

John grinned, all white teeth and vibrant blue eyes.

"I was curious."

Her brow knit, but he continued on. Those devilish fingers found her hair, twirling a curl.

"Jacob just seemed so… sad and told Joseph that he was committed to our cause now more than ever before."

A lump as thick as wet sand formed in her throat, but Cappie shook off the sting of his explanation.

"He, he said that?" she asked.

John paused to think, to torture her, and cocked his head.

"In less words, but yes. And I thought it odd. So 'busy' in the last year, and suddenly so dedicated."

"You're such an asshole–"

"Fine, sure, I'm an asshole, but I had to know–"

"Know what?"

His mouth was upon hers the moment the words fell out, capturing whatever upper hand Cappie thought she had. She gasped at the prick of pain she felt from his teeth to her bottom lip.

"I had to know," he breathed, hot and rasped in the shell of her ear . "I had to know if your madness matched mine. If you're as unhinged as me, as trapped as me. And I think it does. And I meant it. Oh, did I mean it! Now that I have a taste, I don't think I could quit you. I don't want to let go."

Before Cappie could find any words to respond to that , John released her. He pinched a nipple, laughing as Cappie cried and failed to slap him.

"Come shower with me, darling," he sang. "Let me take care of you!"

The echoes of his light footfalls quieted, leaving Cappie in a stupor of a good fuck and turmoil.

"Fuck."

[missywritesfor7]

🌺 Promise Flower | PJM 🌺

Synopsis: Jimin is a popular dance student and the best one at his university. Mina is a photography student and has known Jimin since high school. An idea for a photo project finds Mina getting closer to him than she ever has before. She learns how big his heart is, but also learns how closely he guards it. Every time she thinks he'll let her in, he pulls away again. Is it even worth the trouble?

Pairing: college student!Jimin x fem!oc

Warnings: depression, anxiety, panic attacks, alcoholism

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

|| Ch. 27: Haze ||

There’s a ringing in my head. Actually it’s pounding. And buzzing. I feel like there’s so much pressure in my brain that my eyes are going to be forced out of the sockets. I open my eyes to find I’m laying in my bed and the sun is shining brightly through my window. It burns and I wish it wouldn’t.

I don’t remember much from last night, but I guess I at least managed to get myself to bed. I’m completely naked though except for my panties and I’m not even sure how that happened. Everything is such a blur. All I remember is coming home, drinking, and cursing the fact that I have a brother. Everything else is a fog that makes it hard for me to determine what’s real and what’s a dream.

First I need to do something about this hangover. I’ve never drank so much before and I regret it greatly. I manage to find the strength to sit up but I can’t get to my feet. The room is spinning around me and I’m pretty sure I’m still drunk to some degree. This is the absolute worst.

“Fuck,” I mumble to myself. I throw my head back on the pillow and try to plead with the powers that be to make the room stop dancing.

“You’re awake?”

I look up and see Jimin standing in my doorway with nothing but his boxers on. Now I’m really struggling to figure out what happened last night.

“When did you get here?” I mumble.

“You don’t remember?” He asks annoyed. “You left me a voicemail last night. By the time I got here you were already extremely fucked up.”

“Oh,” I say still trying to piece together the previous night as best I can. I don’t remember calling him and leaving him a voicemail. I don’t remember him being here at all. I thought I just got drunk and passed out.

“You really don’t remember anything do you?” The tone in his voice lets me know that whatever happened he’s not happy about it at all.

“No,” I sigh. “I’m sorry, I was a fucking mess last night.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He rolls his eyes and steps out of the room. He returns a brief moment later with water and medicine and sets it on the nightstand next to me. “Here,” he huffs turning to walk back out.

“Babe, wait,” I plead. He turns back to me and sighs. “I can tell you’re upset, so I’m sorry for whatever I may have done last night that has you mad at me.”

“Ok,” he says turning back around to leave.

“Jimin, please,” I plead again. “Can you at least tell me what I did?”

“You mean besides being completely stupid and reckless?” He says sharply.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for fighting me when I tried to take the bottle from you? Sorry for spilling soju everywhere then proceeding to throw up all over both of us and the floor? Sorry for having me try to carry your ass to the bathtub so I can clean you and everything else up? Sorry for throwing up two more times in the bathtub and nearly choking? Sorry for going in and out of consciousness and scaring the ever living shit out of me because I thought you were fucking dying? Sorry for making it hard for me to get any sleep because I had to keep checking on you to make sure you were still breathing? You’re sorry for all of that?”

His words feel venomous as they hit me in my chest. I don’t remember any of that and I feel terrible that I put him through it. He sounds angry and exhausted, but also sad and hurt.

“Yes,” I say softly. “I don’t remember any of it, and I know that’s my fault for being so fucking stupid and drinking way too much, but I’m sorry for all of it.”

“I thought you were dying!” He shouts with tears welling in his eyes. “How the fuck could you be so stupid?! You know you don’t handle your drinks well but you still thought it would be a good idea to drink half a fucking bottle of tequila and two bottles of soju?! And if I wasn’t here what would you have done with the other four bottles? Would you have kept drinking them until you fucking died?!”

His yelling is making my head hurt worse, but I guess I deserve this. I clearly put him through a lot and he’s obviously hurting.

“Babe I’m so sorry,” I repeat unsure of what more to say. “I wish I could take it all back. I wish I hadn’t done any of it. I had such a rough day yesterday that I just made one bad decision after another. I’ll do anything to make it up to you, I’m so so sorry.”

He paces a little and lets out another heavy sigh. He stops to look at me only to sigh again, pace a bit more, then finally he sits on the bed next to me.

“Mina,” he sighs in defeat. “I love you so much. I’ve told you that time and again. I’ve also told you how hard it is for me to love. How hard it is for me to open my heart up because everyone I love leaves.” He’s fighting tears and biting his trembling lip. “I found my grandma’s lifeless body in her car, and I thought I was going to have to relive that pain of losing the love of my fucking life. Every time I hit you with the cold water and you didn’t respond I thought that was it. I felt my heart breaking each time I couldn’t wake you up. Fuck, you have no idea how many times I tried to wake you!”

I’m not even trying to hold my tears in, I let them flow heavily down my cheeks. There’s so much pain in his voice and it’s because of me. The love of his “fucking life”.

“I was up all night cleaning the floor, washing our clothes, and making sure you were still alive. I washed your entire body, I washed your hair, I put your fucking underwear on you, and I carried you to the fucking bed! I was so angry with you I couldn’t even lay down next to you. I poured the rest of your shit down the drain and spent the rest of the night laying on the couch hoping you don’t fucking die on me!”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper through my tears.

“You were CHOKING on your fucking vomit, Mina!! I held you. In my fucking arms. In fucking tears. As you kept. Fucking. Choking!!”

“I-“

“Don’t say anything. There’s nothing you can say to me right now.” He gets up from the bed. “Take your fucking medicine,” he says walking out of the room.

I do as I’m told, reaching for the medicine and water with a shaky hand. The pills barely go down past the large knot in my throat. I’ve never felt so much regret in my life. I’ve never felt so heartbroken. I’ve never been so stupid.

He’s done a lot for me last night and all I did was make an even bigger mess and cause him pain. I don’t know how I can make this up to him. I don’t even know if I can. He’s never been this angry with me before.

He’s also never called me the love of his life before. My mind is spinning and not just because of the hangover. I lay back and stare at the ceiling trying to think of some way I can make this right. Something I can say or do to make him a little less upset with me. Fuck I’m so stupid!

All I can do is cry. It seems that’s all I know how to do besides piss my boyfriend off because of terrible decisions. I lay here crying for a while letting everything in me out. I take a drink of water, roll back over and cry some more. The cycle repeats a few times until I have no more water left.

After some time passes I hear the faint sound of snoring. I guess Jimin’s exhaustion finally caught up to him. The medicine I took is starting to kick in a bit though I know there’s probably nothing that will 100% take away my pain except for time, but at least I feel ok enough to roll out of bed.

I step into the living room to see Jimin curled up on the couch sleeping away. He looks so uncomfortable that it causes a pang to shoot through my heart. He was so upset that he would rather curl up on the uncomfortable couch than lay in the bed next to me.

I go back into my room and pull a blanket out of my closet to drape over him as he sleeps. If I had the strength I would just carry him to my bed where he could be much more comfortable and get a better rest, but this is all I can do for now.

I grab another drink of water from the kitchen and come back out realizing I should get him a pillow too. I grab one and come back trying to think of a way to place it under his head without disturbing him.

Carefully I lift his head and instead of just putting the pillow under him, I slip myself under him and sit down. I place the pillow on my lap and lay his head back down. He’s so deep in his sleep that he doesn’t even budge.

Even while he’s snoring away I can see how tired he is through the puffy dark circles around his eyes. I didn’t even get a chance to ask him about his day. He could have had a terrible day just like me then had to turn around and try to make sure I wasn’t dying. The guilt is so strong in me. I feel so selfish and it’s any wonder why he’s even still here after all of that.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” I whisper gently running my fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry for everything. For being selfish. For being foolish. For being inconsiderate.”

My tears are falling again. It’s amazing that I even have any tears left after the amount of crying I’ve been doing.

“I never tried to ask how you were doing. You’ve been so stressed lately and it’s been breaking my heart. I should have known better than to selfishly call you over here just to babysit me. I don’t remember any of it and I’m really sorry for that too. I guess I just wanted to do whatever I could to forget that I have a brother. I wanted to forget existing for a while and I did that, but it came at the cost of hurting you and I’m not sure I can even forgive myself.”

I do my best to keep my tears from hitting his face, but it’s a battle. The tears are falling much too fast.

“I wish I had the sense to say this to you while you’re awake. I guess that’s another fault of mine. I feel like I can’t get anything right when it comes to being your girlfriend. Maybe I had more sense before I fell in love with you. Or maybe I’m just blinded by love that I can’t think straight half the time. I don’t even know what I’m fucking saying, maybe I’m still drunk.” I take a deep breath and sigh. “You mean everything to me.”

I look down at his sleeping face. He’s stopped snoring and now his face is twisting a bit into a frown. I’m afraid I may be disturbing him so I move my hand from his hair and hope that he goes back to snoring.

He lets out a small groan and without opening his eyes he blindly reaches for my hand and places it back on his head. It’s something he always does when he’s not quite ready to let me stop giving him attention. I only assume he’s half asleep and only doing this out of habit. Regardless, I resume running my fingers through his hair as he lets out a satisfied moan.

“You mean everything to me too,” he whispers to my surprise.

I didn’t even think he heard anything I said. Did he just hear that part or did he hear everything? I pause leaving my fingers frozen within his locks of hair. Part of me hopes he heard everything but another part of me is a bit embarrassed by it, though I’m not sure why. He lets out a small whine signaling for me to continue stroking my fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “Don’t worry about me now, just get some rest.”

“I’m always going to worry about you,” he says softly. “The moment I stop is the moment I die.”

“You’re way too good to me,” I say trying to mask the trembling in my voice. He always says the sweetest things and it only makes me feel worse for everything I put him through.

“If you’re going to cry again go back to bed.”

“Will you come with me?” I ask pulling my hand from his hair. “It would be more comfortable than the couch.”

“No, I’m still mad at you.” His eyes are still closed but he blindly grabs for my hand again and places it back on his head.

“You won’t lay in the bed with me, but you want me to keep petting you?”

“Are you complaining?” He asks in a snarky tone. “After everything I did last night?”

“Not complaining,” I quickly answer. “Get some rest.”

I resume stroking his head hoping he doesn’t hit me with more attitude. His voice went from soft and sleepy to sharp and fiery very quickly and I don’t think I can handle much more right now. I just want him to go back to sleep.

He hums and settles himself in place a bit more as I stroke his hair until he’s snoring again. Soon after I follow suit and fall asleep with my fingers still intertwined in his soft locks.

[kim-poce]

14. No God In Town: Hesitation

On Patreon (two weeks earlier release)

First | Previous | Next | Masterlist

I opened my eyes the next morning at exactly eight o'clock, my first thought was: I’m a complete idiot.

The previous day’s memories were making a mess in my mind, but I still recalled most of them, it doesn't matter how much I wished it didn’t. It had been decades since I last got drunk, I knew I didn't have defenses against alcohol and I still decided to drink it anyway. I’m not usually this inconsequential, this only shows how this town must be in my past as soon as possible.

“Did you sleep well, Biggie?” the flower cub asked when I stepped out of my room, her tone was quite threatening to such a friendly question. “After all, you got home wasted last night.”

“I slept well, yes,” I nodded, feeling as if I was in the wrong, but it’s not like I’m the one bringing a follower home.

I felt the traces, five people counting the couchwoman, makes sense; they wouldn’t show the follower to an outsider. I still felt one trail leading outside, one of the cubs must have visited the follower early in the morning in secrecy. Again.

“You are back at your staring habit. Hangover?” the cursing cub raised her eyebrow.

“I don’t get a hangover,” I shook my head, and sat down. There was tea and bread waiting, and it was time to eat.

“Unfair!” the couchwoman grumped, she was resting her head on the table, a warm cup of tea was in front of her. “You drank as much as I did, you should suffer too.”

“She has been like this since she woke up,” the clapping boy clapped his hand once, earning another complaint from the woman. “Sorry sorry~”

“You deserve it,” the flower cub said, “You took Biggie out and made them drink!”

“I didn’t make anything! The very-human-guy is an adult already, I’m the baby here, they are the one at fault.”

The couchwoman was right, but I didn’t want to admit it outloud, something inside me wanted to pick fights with her for no reason. Maybe it was for the habit of it.

“It was free drinks, of course I would drink as much as I could,” she murmured to herself. “And they seemed to need some drinking.”

I recalled how she listened to my rambling without complaint, and how she carried me up the mountain even with how hard the path was. I sighed.

“Couchwoman, look at me.”

She did, showing a confused expression. Her mouth opened to say —or ask— something, but I snapped my fingers before any word could get out.

“What?” she blinked a couple times, stared at me, blinked again and then back at the staring with wide eyes. “Very-human-guy, did you- did you just heal my hangover?”

I nodded. All the humans were staring at me now, even though they complain so often when I am staring.

“Color me fucking surprised,” the cursing cub said, leaning back against the chair and watching me up and down. “I didn’t believe it when Rosemarie said she was your friend but is it true!”

“It’s the first time you use magic in front of us,” the mint cub said, mouth wide open.

Wrong. It’s the first time I let you know I did magic. For obvious reasons I didn’t say this outloud.

“Are you okay?” the flower cub asked with worry in her eyes, she is often worried.

“This much causes no side effects,” I assured her, “It’s a simple trick.”

I would leave that place anyway, at night when no one was looking, or maybe right now. It would be easy to walk out and just never come back again, so there is no issue in letting them witness my power at this point, they already know it. They already brought in a follower.

They kept staring at me as I had my breakfast. It wasn’t the follower-to-god look that I was afraid I would get, it was more like the couchwoman’s expression when she heard me cursing for the first time.

“Thank you,” the couchwoman said finally, breaking the silence. “Anyway, yesterday I was drunker than I thought, I left the house for a second and I swear that I saw a decapitated head on the floor. When I stepped back it was just a wooden cube thing.”

“Oh yeah, that cube does that,” the mint cub said, nodding. “It’s not a decapitated head to me, though.”

“I wish it had shown me something as simple as a head,” the cursing cube added. “That thing doesn’t like me.”

It seems to like you actually. I thought, but there was no use in explaining the cube’s feeling when I didn't get it too, and much less when the cube would leave with me.

“Biggie, where are the clothes you were wearing yesterday?” the clapping cub asked. “You grew too much for their size, I can sew them if you want.”

I tilted my head. I would need to have the clothes on you piece when I —run away— move out, so he has a point. Of course, I could use magic to sew it back together but it would be a temporary solution, also I could sew it myself but since he is offering…

“Flower cub knows,” I explained. I’ll take this service as payment for betraying and lying to me.

Thinking of it, I should leave some silver coins behind. The cubs may need it. I don’t think their family gives them a lot of pocket money, if any.

“Well well well, that was a lovely time,” the couchwoman got up, “but since my head isn’t killing me anymore, and it's the weekend I’ll get some money into my pocket.”

“Stealing?” the cursing cub asked.

“Working,” she hissed. “It was a pleasure to meet you all. Thank you for the food Danny. Alice, I still don’t forgive you about the bath but you make great tea.”

“... thank you?”

“And you are Fern, right?” she waited for the cursing cub to give a wary nod. “They are wanted posters for you. Ten silver if alive.”

The cursing cub clicked the tongue, “And the others?”

“Three silver,” the couchwoman placed her hand on her chin, and looked at the other cubs, “they don’t have a good description on them, though. So unless you guys gang up, the others won’t be noticed.”

“What about everyone else?” the flower cub asked, her hands shaking slightly around her empty tea cup.

“No word,” she choked her head. “Apart from the last notice, you know they are-”

“We know,” all the cubs said at once.

“Thank you,” the cursing cub said, massaging her temper.

“Very-human-guy, no worry I’ll pretend I know nothing like always. See you around. Try not to go down the town often, though.”

“I don’t intend to,” I said. Not thinking about the silver bounty, and whatever trouble the cubs are in, it’s not my job to take care of it and I won’t do anything about it. I would leave this palace and its problems will stay behind too. I don’t care.

“Biggie,” mint cub called with a thoughtful face, “Can you change our appearances?”

Oddly enough the request to use magic didn’t freak me out. It should have. “I can’t, even if I could it would be a temporary measure.”

“Okay, it was worth asking,” he shrugged.

I opened my mouth and almost straight up asked why they brought the follower there, was it for me to change his appearance? What was the reason? Why didn’t they ask me for it already? Why to keep secrets?

I didn’t ask. Humans don’t tend to react well to straight up questions about their secrets, and I was not one to try workaround ways of talking.

“Biggie, I’ll make a new kind of garden today. Want me to teach you?”

“Sure,” I nodded. I had until the clapping cub fixed my clothes anyway, so I should learn some gardening skills if I can. I also need more mint to take with me, I should just dry some.

I wasn’t sad about leaving. Whatever was crushing my core at that moment was not sadness, and the reason I would stay there a couple more days was not hesitation.

“I’ll go down the town,” the mint cub said with a smile, “I’m the least likely to be caught and we need some answers.”

There was a small argument, but in the end the mint cub walked away into the trails and I was not worried. I was not worried at all.

—

@extemporary-username, @the-magpiesystem, @nexfox-art, @kathea, @wolfeyedwitch, @blu-jay-2779, @rose-pinkie, @latenightcupsofcoffee