#but i still need a catch tag for the jokes i toss out

[andtheywerecrewmates]

not a zosan girlie but this is them to me

[joelsgoldrush]

“give me the first taste” | 10k

logan howlett x f!reader

part 2 of “GUILTY PLEASURE”

"Your hungry flirt borders intrusion / And I'm building memories on things we have not said / Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly, my love / Give me the first taste / Let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever / Darling, just start start the chase, I'll let you win." The First Taste by Fiona Apple

SUMMARY: From the moment you first laid eyes on Logan, you knew he was a tough nut to crack. But if there’s one thing you love, it’s a challenge. As your relationship grows, you’re determined to show him that, in this universe, he can also be loved.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. angst. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. age-gap (reader is 25). once again wade saves the day. domestic!logan. soft dom!logan. logan calls reader “kid”. they watch (500) days of summer. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering. thigh riding. thumb sucking. throat fucking. multiple orgasms. unprotected p in v. creampie (i would say i’m sorry but i’d be lying)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: jeez. hi guys!!! hope you’re doing alright. this is the 2nd part to “guilty pleasure.” writing for these two has been a total rollercoaster, but god was it worth it. as i always tell you, english isn’t my first language, so if you come across any mistake and you feel like letting me know, there’s no problem. thank you so much for all the support you’ve been giving my posts. i’m happy strangers out there take the time to read my silly stories :)

A girl and a mutant walk into an apartment…

Actually, you’re still trying to come up with the rest of the joke. But one thing’s true: Logan’s about to set foot in your place.

You curse under your breath, putting both your hands to work as you struggle to open the door. “Fucking swollen wood. I hate humidity,” you mutter, glancing back at Logan, who frowns as you keep trying different maneuvers to get the door to function properly.

It’s a shitty situation overall. And having that gorgeous man practically glued to your back isn’t helping in any way. You can tell he wants to give you a hand, but you’re not having it—women in STEM or something of the sort.

“May I—” he starts, though you cut him off before he can finish.

“I’ve got this. Just need to—” you say, ramming your shoulder into the door with enough force to make it finally give away. Almost stumbling over the carpet but managing to catch yourself, you sigh in relief. Meanwhile, Logan stands still, scrutinizing you until you gesture for him to enter. “Welcome to the smallest apartment in New York City. It's nothing fancy, but it’s got everything you need for a comfortable stay on a budget. Make yourself at home!”

Logan narrows his eyes, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips before stepping inside. Each of his movements seems to be premeditated as he tosses his jacket onto the couch, surveying the room. A portrait of when you were a kid, probably six or seven years old, catches his attention. He tilts his head, picking up the picture to examine it more closely, and then flashes you a lopsided grin. “How cute.”

“Well, I’ve changed a lot,” you take the picture from his hands, returning it to the shelf where he had gotten it from. 

“Well,” he echoes, mocking your tone, “your beauty certainly hasn’t.”

His eyes bore into you as you meet his gaze. What amazes you most is that he’s being completely honest. In a heartbeat, you look away, wondering what’s gotten into you. Usually, you’re not this awkward—you’ve learned how to take compliments over the years, knowing how to smile just right, to flutter your eyelashes. To blush and giggle in command. Those were the tools that helped you to survive countless first dates—your dearest aces up your sleeve.

There’s no use denying that they remained just that: first, failed dates. You hope you never have to go back to dating apps after this.

“Are you hungry? ‘Cause I’m starving,” you say, trying to walk away from him, although he’s faster, catching your hand in his. 

“Hey,” he urges you to make eye contact with him, his voice perplexingly soft. “Is everything okay?”

You nod so vigorously that you nearly strain your neck. “I’m fine, I swear. I just never get past this point.”

Inching closer, he presses his lips together for a split second, his brows furrowing in confusion. “You lost me there.”

“Guys who come into my apartment don’t tend to call back,” you admit, a flush creeping up your face, cheeks getting hotter. “I happen to believe it’s a curse, though I’ve kissed, like, a hundred toads so far and it still won’t break.”

“So y’think you’re gonna scare me off,” he raises an eyebrow, grinning. His rough fingers become gentle as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s sweet. Should be the other way around.”

Wow. You two are a match made in heaven.

As you detach yourself from his embrace and head to the kitchen, you decide to look for something edible in the fridge, finding different trays of food from days ago, none of which look appetizing or suitable for feeding the Tin Woodman standing behind you.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable metallic sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing rings in your ears, forcing you to spin around. The image that unfolds before you is peculiar, to say the least: he’s cornering your cat against the door.

Why is he about to fight a cat?

“Please don’t kill him?” you take a step in his direction and scoop the little ball of white fur into your arms. Logan stares at both of you, eyes squinted and brows knitted. “I’m sure he’s the cutest feline you’ve ever seen. Have mercy on him.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“Earnest wasn’t aware of your existence either,” you reply, scratching along the animal’s back. He purrs beside your neck, his yellowish eyes never leaving Logan’s. “Earnest, this is Logan. He has claws just like you.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to that,” Logan warns you, retracting his claws with a sigh. You can’t help but wonder if he ever feels tranquil, at peace. “Y’know, you’ve doomed him to bad fortune with that name. Is he at least toilet trained?”

“Are you hating on The Importance of Being Earnest?” you ask, expecting a retort, though apparently the play’s title doesn’t ring a bell for him. “Oscar Wilde?”

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, kid?”

Now’s your time to roll your eyes, setting the cat down and letting it run away. He likes to hide in the bathroom—don’t ask why, because not even you know the answer to that. You flick your gaze up back to Logan, placing your hands on your hips. “See, you gave him trust issues.”

“He’ll survive. Don’t they have seven lives?”

This is the perfect conversation to have with someone who just ate you out thirty minutes ago: how many lives do cats have. Jesus.

At some point, Logan flops onto the couch, stretching out. You shudder as you hear him crack his neck, the popping sound getting on your nerves. He pats the empty side of the sofa, spreading his thighs until he’s almost taking up all the space. “Come here.”

Putting aside all your thoughts, you accept the invitation. You sit down, motionless, and his arm grazes the cushion behind your head, pulling you closer to him. You rest your cheek on his chest, letting out a deep sigh, one that you’ve been holding in since you got to the apartment. Is it possible that he knows you craved this? This proximity, this kind of affection. To be held—it’s been your only wish for months. He drums his fingers on your shoulder blades, then starts rubbing your back ever so lightly.

Far from dozing off, you feel alive.

It’s hard not to lose track of time and space when you find yourself immersed in the warmth he offers, and that’s when you realize how deeply you’re falling for this man. “Logan?” the mere thought of asking him what’s been on your mind terrifies you. The last thing you want is to ruin things—or whatever it is that you have. He hums, a low, heavy sound in his throat, indicating you to continue. “I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

You lift your face from his chest and look him in the eye. The city’s still alive outside, with music and chatter sneaking in through the window. Everything seems to be perfect, and you wish you could stay like this—just staring at him as if he were a painting in a museum, and you the critic who can’t stop writing articles about its beauty.

Okay, that was… weirdly specific. 

Logan tries to hide his smile as you peck his lips repeatedly. For a moment, you almost forget what you were going to ask him in the first place. But then he’s ready to listen, and you a wave of nausea washes over you.

“I know that we came here to… engage in adult practices.”

“Fucking, you mean.”

“I didn’t want to be that straightforward, but yeah,” you say, shaking your head as to rearrange your thoughts. “Would you mind if we stayed like this?” to emphasize your point, you kick your shoes off and put your legs on top of his lap. He observes the whole sequence without daring to utter a word. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to try that too. I truly do. But… right now, all I want is to cuddle,” he’s still silent, making you even more nervous. “I’m sorry. Is that okay with you?”

His whole body engulfs yours, your cheek coming to rest once again in its original position. You can feel the rhythmic beating of his heart, each breath he takes, the air he exhales dampening your nape. Logan peppers your neck with chaste kisses before pressing his lips to your temple. His voice comes out strained, partially muffled by your hair. “Who do you take me for, huh?” he’s right there, beside your ear, fucking everywhere. There isn’t a single centimeter of your exposed skin that he isn’t touching, marking as his. You don’t give him an answer, in part because you’re unsure of what to say. He takes your silence as a cue to keep talking. “Let me take you to bed.”

“I can walk on my own.”

“I know,” he mutters, standing up with you in his arms, one arm beneath your knees and the other one under your shoulders. Logan’s not used to being this cautious, this patient with someone he’s known for less than two weeks. You see it in his eyes when he lets his guard down—something that has cracked, a shell that’s been broken.

As he places you gently on top of the covers, he lingers for a moment, crouching beside the bed and searching for your lowered gaze. His fingers are warm as he tilts your chin up. “I didn’t come here just to have sex with you. That was a possibility, of course—but it’s not the main reason why I’m here,” he rasps, words accompanied by the light brush of his lips against yours for a quick, brief kiss. “I care about you. A lot. I’m fine with whatever we do as long as I get to be close to you,” he grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He then goes back to his usual bossy self, his demeanor changing. “And I don’t want to hear you apologizing for not wanting to have sex ever again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you’re making jokes?”

“I can’t have serious conversations,” you confess, observing the look of pure confusion on his face. “It’s true. I once spoke at a funeral and they cut me off forty seconds into my speech.”

Logan laughs at your sudden confession, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Rising to his feet, he begins to unbutton his flannel, pausing after the first few buttons are undone, waiting for your approval. “Do you want me to stay tonight?” 

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

His words don’t hide any real threat—that you know.

You stifle your laughter, shedding your clothes. Instead of going to the bathroom to change, you toss your work clothes carelessly to the floor, opting for an old pair of pajamas that are the complete opposite of sexy. They surely have seen better days.

Logan’s eyes trail over you, taking his time to analyze the faded lettering on your wrinkled shirt. “Keep calm and eat pizza?” he reads aloud.

“Hey. I bought it when I was seventeen.”

“You could use a new wardrobe.”

“Well, what about you?” you tease, toying with his belt. “You’re gonna sleep like this in my bed?”

“Can’t wait for me to get my shirt off, huh?” he grins, that all-too-familiar smile on his lips.

You play along, folding your arms over your chest. “You think so highly of yourself.”

Without breaking eye contact, Logan unbuckles his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. He then shrugs off his flannel, leaving him in just his briefs and vest. You scan his body, and the room suddenly feels a hundred degrees hotter, the air between you thickening. Logan notices your reaction, chuckling. “Don’t get too excited. This is all you’re getting today.”

“I think I’ve already heard that before.”

“Kid.”

You raise your hands in surrender, showing him your palms and mouthing ’sorry’. Approaching your bed, you pull back the covers and slip into it. When you see Logan still standing there, you frown. “Where are your manners? Come here. I’m very impatient.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t make you wait long. He proceeds to get under the sheets beside you, occupying that side of the bed that’s always been empty. As you both settle in, facing each other, you can’t help but giggle, your contagious laugh getting to him. “What now?”

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your index finger, a featherlight touch that has him closing his eyes. In the soft glow of the night, with the city’s distant sounds filtering in, he looks breathtaking. “I mean it.”

“Do you have an off switch?”

“I’m… not sure. Let’s find out tomorrow.”

“You need to sleep,” he pulls you onto his chest with firm but gentle hands. He intertwines his legs with yours, holding you close.

“Wait. I have a game to play.”

“It’s late.”

“Please?”

He sighs. “Okay.”

“We have to make confessions until we fall asleep.” 

“You just want to talk—that doesn’t even qualify as a game.”

“It does in this universe,” you reply, feeling his chest rumble with a chuckle as you settle more comfortably against him. “I’ll start: remember the first night you came to the bar?” he hums in acknowledgment. “It wasn’t Burger Night. We don’t serve food. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

He kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “I knew. You don’t have a kitchen down there, baby,” he falls silent, taking his time to come up with a confession of his own. “I have a fear of flying.”

“Really? You, of all people?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be judged.”

“Oh, don’t be such a crybaby,” you tease, burying your face further into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He shivers slightly where your nose touches his skin. “I like you. It’s kind of scary, and I’m sure saying something like this probably goes against the rules of dating 101, but I do. I feel safe with you, like—like this is where I’m supposed to be.”

Almost as if the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together, you think to yourself, though the words stay unspoken.

You’ve come to learn that Logan’s not a man of many words—he’s more of the “show, don’t tell” kind of guy. So when he makes you lift your face, you’re not surprised by the way he kisses you: hungrily. Passionately, like a starved man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. A soft whimper gets lost somewhere in your throat as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, languidly stroking yours.

“We didn’t brush our teeth,” you whisper against his lips, laughing when he groans in exasperation.

“You love having the final say, don’t you?”

“I’m being serious, Logan. Cavities are a real issue for me.”

“You can always get new teeth.”

“But my morning breath—”

“It’ll stink anyway, and so will mine,” he responds, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat once he settles into his ideal sleep position. “Good night.”

“Night,” you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. Despite your efforts to ignore it, being cradled like this feels incredible. You can’t believe you went twenty-five years without it.

Just as you’re about to drift off, curiosity strikes. “Can you get tattoos?”

“Bub, I was actually falling asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry,” you mumble, feeling a bit sheepish.

More silence.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“What was the Great Depression like?”

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his voice gruff as he shifts lightly. “It was fine. Now go to sleep.”

And you do, but not for long. An abrupt coldness wakes you up, eyes wide open, feeling disoriented. It’s still pitch black outside, far quieter than when you first fell asleep. The clock on your nightstand reads it’s 3:17 am, though it feels like you’ve only been in bed for five minutes.

Then you see him—he’s twitching in his sleep on the far side of the bed, his painful grunts reaching your ears. Most of what he says is unintelligible, but there’s one word he keeps repeating over and over again without fail: “No.”

You don’t usually have nightmares. What’s the best way to wake someone from one? You’re still thinking when he starts mumbling again, his voice thick with distress, and now he’s throwing his arms in the air as if he were fighting off something—or someone—in his dreams.

Pressing your hands to his cheeks, you attempt to hold his face steady. He clenches his fists, his breath quickening the more he battles whatever’s haunting him. “Logan,” you whisper at first, subtly shaking his shoulders, but his eyebrows stay furrowed, deep in his nightmare. This time, you tighten your grip, fully sitting on top of him. “Logan. Logan! Wake up!”

Without warning, you’re on your back, pinned against the mattress. Logan’s straddling your hips, caging you in with his body, the weight of his adamantium skeleton pressing down. Your hands are trapped beneath his, and you watch as he clenches his jaw, teeth bared in a way that looks painful. His eyes are so dark and wild you barely recognize him, prominent veins throbbing in his neck with each labored breath he takes.

“Logan,” your own voice sounds unnatural, forced, as you do your best to bring him back to reality. “It’s me. You’re alright.”

That seems to get through him. Logan stares at you in disbelief, his eyes softening as they take in your terrified expression. He abruptly pulls away, retreating to the nearest wall. He’s gasping for air, slamming his eyes shut, his legs trembling. The only sound you can hear is his rapid breathing. You get up from the bed, taking a step in his direction, but you don’t manage to go any further since he stops you with a shout.

“Stay right there!” he’s growling, pointing his finger at you. “I’m serious. Don’t come any closer.”

“Logan…”

“Please, no!” his voice increases in pitch, not being able to meet your eyes. “Please. Just stay there.”

You comply, not wanting to upset him any further. Sitting back on your knees, you try to appear calm. A man so strong, capable of things you can’t even understand. A weapon turned against himself now stands before you, pushing you away as if his presence were poisonous. He slumps to the floor, the fabric of his vest soaked with sweat.

Once he’s fully conscious, you cautiously crawl toward him, watching his every move. On a random day, this might have been funny for both of you, but right now, there’s no room for laughter. Logan shakes his head, his shoulders tensing when you reach out to hug him, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. It takes him a couple of minutes, but eventually, his body sags against yours. For a while, neither of you speaks. You just thread your fingers through his hair, hoping the closeness will help soothe him. “Feeling better?” you whisper in the shell of his ear, and he pulls back to look you in the eye. You caress his cheek, his stubble rough against your skin. “Welcome back.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first thing he says, covering your hand with his. One by one, he kisses your knuckles, still shaking his head. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You had a nightmare—it’s not like you could control it.”

“But I could’ve hurt you,” he says, lowering his gaze to your wrists, where his fingerprints have left their mark. “God. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

“Wait!” you grab his arm, your mouth setting in a hard line, stopping him from leaving. “Don’t run away from me, not now. Don’t push me away, Logan.”

“I could’ve done something much worse.”

“But you didn’t. It was a nightmare, baby. You didn’t know,” you kiss his forehead, hoping to talk some sense into him. “Please, stay. Let’s try to get some more sleep.”

“What if—”

You hold his face close to yours, your noses brushing. “You won’t hurt me.” 

This time, he lets you keep him close, the roles now reversed. You can see him fighting his exhaustion, not wanting to fall asleep. But the more you play with his hair, the harder it is for him to stay awake.

“I’m alright,” he says, seemingly reading your mind. It’s hard to tell whether he’s reassuring you or himself.

“I know,” you knead his shoulder, aiming to ease the tension knotted there. “You better sleep, or I might start rambling again.”

A faint, tired hum escapes him, at long last allowing his eyes to close. “I like hearing you talk,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your collarbone, drifting off soon after that.

You continue to hug him, feeling the weight of his body gradually relax against yours as his breathing evens out. The room is quiet, but your mind is far from it: a tornado of emotions swirls within you—concern, relief, love, and something else you can’t quite decipher. It isn’t until sleep finally claims you too that your brain stops going a hundred kilometers an hour.

The most surreal Sunday night of your whole life.

“So… when will you let me see Lolo again?”

Wade’s question makes you stop mid-pour, flicking your eyes between the drink and him. A few seats away, you hand a glass to Adam. Returning to where Wade’s currently sitting, you dry your hands on your apron. “Why are you even here?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, and he gives half a shrug. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t holding him against his will.”

“He’s been crashing at your place almost every night. You have your own methods, woman,” he raises one finger, then quickly adds another, pointing at your shirt. “Two methods, in fact.”

At that, you laugh mirthlessly, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m surprised anyone would willingly date you.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts, taking a tentative sip of his beer and leaning back in his chair.

You glance at him while you wipe down the bar, looking for something to occupy your hands. “He’s not my boyfriend—yet.”

Wade mimics a punch in his chest, just where his heart’s supposed to be, though you’re starting to question whether he has one. His lips form a small, exaggerated pout. “That must hurt, doll. You got yourself into a situationship with a goddamn fossil. Good luck getting out of that.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, rolling your eyes. “We’re cool this way. There’s absolutely no need for a title.”

“Okay, let’s rehearse that one more time because you look like you’re about to cry,” he lifts an eyebrow, drawing nearer. “You want the title, right?”

“I don’t.”

He props his chin on his hand, laughing at you. “Yes, you do. You can’t fool me.”

“I said I don’t.”

“I said I don’t,” he mocks you, kicking his legs and puckering his lips.

You can’t help but throw the towel down on the counter with irritation, giving in. “Okay! Of course, I want the fucking title.”

“There she is!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in a triumphant gesture. “Glad we’re speaking the truth now,” he tilts his head to the side, noticing your sudden silence. “Hey, drop the long face. I’m sure he’s been thinking about it. In order to understand Logan, I usually compare him to elders over ninety.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask, your tone a mix of mild annoyance and curiosity.

“Just think about it! Senior citizens didn’t date for too long in the past. They’d go straight from strangers to lovers. Take my grandparents, for example: in the span of one year, they met at a party, then got married, and had five kids. Do you really want to have a litter of Logan’s grumpy, hairy puppies?”

“Wade, that’s not even possible.”

“The point is,” he continues, finishing his beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Logan’s rusty in this area, alright? I’d bet a thousand dollars he probably dated Cleopatra.”

“How did you pass History in high school?”

“I never graduated, but keep that between us,” he lifts his shoulders, shrugging. He spins the empty bottle, contemplating his next words. “You should tell him how you feel and what you want. That’s what works best for Vanessa and me. It’s easier that way—you can’t expect him to just guess.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. “I just wish he’d realize it on his own.”

“Well, sometimes you need to give the other person a bit of guidance. I’m just laying out the basics of a relationship here. Did your parents hate each other or something?”

The irony of it all. “They got divorced when I was little.” 

“Oh, god,” Wade sighs, rubbing his temples before glancing at you. “Let me get this straight: Mommy and Daddy weren’t exactly the poster children for love. And you also happen to be a bartender. Anything else, honey? Please tell me you’re at least getting laid, because otherwise, I’m going to feel tremendously sorry for you and your mental health.”

Just then, you hear your name being called. Smiling at Wade, you mumble: “Saved by the bell.” Once you’re back from taking some orders, Wade jumps to his feet, coming around the counter to hug you.

“Dude, what’s the matter with you?” you ask, loosely returning the hug. 

“You’re a fucking survivor,” he whispers in your ear, genuinely sounding concerned. “I don’t know how you do it—you seem so put together. I would’ve lost it by now. A life without sex sounds awful.”

“Jesus, Wade! Get off!” you stretch your arm to punch him in the back, earning a groan from him. “Back to your seat, gentleman. I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“I’m a certified sexologist. Your secret’s safe with me,” he declares with a smirk, gesturing to his empty beer. “But first, I’m gonna need more of this tasty apple juice.”

“I hope you’ve got some cash on you,” you say, getting him another beer. “Why do I get the feeling Logan would kill us if he knew we’re talking about this?”

“Isn’t that what makes it even better?”

Swaying on your feet, you scrunch your nose, momentarily lost in thought. “He won’t let me touch him. I don’t know if it’s me that does something wrong. We do have our… moments, but he takes care of himself. And usually in the bathroom.”

Wade goes white in front of you. “How long has this been going on?”

“Over a month.”

“Oh. That’s bad, like, really bad.”

“Thanks! I’ll be sleeping on the highway tonight. You can always join me.”

“Doll, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed, alright?” he waves his hand dismissively, then sets his palms flat on the counter. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but talking to him is your best bet. This isn’t something you can just brush under the carpet. You’re like a goddamn radio—put it to good use.”

Just as you’re about to reply, you spot Logan entering the bar. You raise a hand in greeting, waving at him. He meets your gaze and smiles briefly, and so your eyes drift to Wade’s, shooting him a warning look. “If you keep this to yourself, I won’t charge you for today,” you mutter through gritted teeth, to which he answers by pretending to zip his mouth closed.

Logan takes a seat next to him, ignoring his presence. Instead, he focuses entirely on you. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, homey.”

“Hiya, Wade,” Wade greets himself with a mock cheer, patting his own back, which makes you laugh. He turns to Logan and his whole face lights up. “I’m afraid to tell you I can’t sleep when you’re not around.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Get your shit together.”

“You’re the worst roommate ever! Can’t believe you got yourself a girl and completely forgot about your bro,” Wade murmurs under his breath, just as his phone rings. “Thank God. I’ve got to go. My love nugget’s calling,” he announces, heading for the door. Before leaving, Wade blows the two of you a kiss. “I hate you both, but I also love you. Peace out, my friends!”

Logan and you exchange glances. “He’s a funny guy, isn’t he?”

“You could say that,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. Logan intends to deepen the kiss, but you pull away after a couple of seconds. He frowns, clearly confused. “That’s how you greet me?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a giggle. “My tip jar is practically empty, and I hate to say it, but it’s your fault.”

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not,” he plants a quick kiss on your cheek, making you smile. “You have classes tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, at 9 am,” you almost grunt, not feeling too enthusiastic about it. “I’m gonna need your help. I can’t sleep through my alarm, okay? The professor said tomorrow’s class is an important one. Midterms are right around the corner, and I can’t take the liberty of failing them.”

“That won’t happen,” he assures you, and you believe him. “I can be of help, don’t worry. You won’t oversleep.”

Oh, Logan. Sweet, lying Logan.

Turns out you ended up oversleeping. Twenty-five years on this earth, and you still haven’t learned not to trust a man, even if his puppy-dog eyes silently beg you to do otherwise. The thing is—you love them. You love men. And you’re especially fond of the one currently sleeping in your bed.

The first rays of sunshine hit your face, waking you up. You attempt to raise a hand to shield your eyes, but moving any limbs feels like a Herculean task. A warm body is pressed against your back, one veiny arm draped over your stomach. Logan remains fast asleep behind you, his steady breathing succeeding in making you feel at ease. You reach back, running your fingers through his messy hair, and he grumbles in his sleep, instinctively pulling you closer.

What a nice, domestic morning. Yep, you’re getting used to this. And nope, you don’t regret it, not even in the slightest bit.

Though there must be a mistake, because you’re preeeeetty sure you had something important to do. 

Oh. You have classes. Had—past tense.

You reach for your nightstand, blindly groping for your phone. The charger is lying on the floor, the plastic of it all damaged. Perhaps Earnest had chewed on it while you were sleeping? You gently pry Logan’s arm off you, sitting up, and your bleary eyes land on something barely peeking out from under the bed.

It’s your fucking phone. The screen is completely shattered, with three distinct holes in the middle of it. Three holes, how strange! You can’t help but wonder who might have left them. Clutching your pillow, you whack Logan in the face with it. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!”

He groans, trying to take the pillow away from you. “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

“I wish I had a UNO reverse card because I should be the one asking you that!” you jab your finger into his chest, showing him the ruined phone. “You broke my fucking phone!”

“What?” he asks, voice laden with sleep, still disoriented. He holds the phone, carefully scrutinizing it. “I think I don’t know how to hit the snooze button.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I believe you’ve made that very clear,” you huff, tossing the phone aside as you flop back onto the mattress. The clock on your nightstand says 11:05 am, and you cover your face with your hands, taking a deep breath. “Next time, when it goes off, just wake me up and I’ll do it.”

Logan settles beside you, resting his head on his forearm as he watches you. “I’m sorry, bub. I’ll get you a new one.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur, sighing. This is your free ticket to be a menace. “I should’ve known dinosaurs and phones would never get along. My bad, pal.”

You don’t even get to see his reaction because he starts tickling you, the room filling with your laughter. Squealing, you try to wriggle away, but his fingers dig into your ribs, expertly finding your most ticklish spots. Your giggles escalate into breathless laughter, your eyes squeezed shut as you desperately attempt to push him away. He’s relentless, chuckling when his own laughter bubbles up. 

“L-logan, stop!” you gasp between fits of laughter, aiming to grasp his hands.

“We dinosaurs love tickling people. Sorry, sweetheart,” he manhandles you until you’re perched on his lap, fisting the fabric of your (his) shirt. Leaning forward, he captures your mouth in a heated kiss. “I’m sorry about the phone,” he slurs the words against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your neck. You tell him that it’s okay, trying to find a comfortable position on top of him, and that’s when his thigh presses against your core, your eyes widening at the unexpected sensation. Logan’s no fool, noticing the way your breath hitches. “What’s wrong, baby? You woke up needy?”

“No, I just—” you trail off as he does it again, his strong thigh coming in contact with your clothed cunt. You search for leverage by placing your hands on his shoulders, glancing at him. “Logan.”

“I’m all ears,” he rests his back against the headboard, the tent in his boxers impossible to ignore. “You want to get off on my thigh,” he states with certainty. It’s not a question—it’s a full-on statement. He knows what you want, what you crave. “Come on then. Grind against it.”

You do as he says, not caring to think twice. You start moving, rubbing your wet pussy against his muscular thigh. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, and soon, you’re whimpering his name, your hands trailing down his abs. Why hadn’t you tried this before? It feels fucking amazing.

From his position, Logan stares at you, his lips slightly parted, eyes clouded with lust. Your arousal drenches your panties, soaking through them, the fabric clinging to his coarse leg hair. He glances down at the mess you’re making, his grin widening as he takes in the sight. “Goddamn, woman. I’m gonna make you clean it off, I swear to God.”

“Need your help,” you whisper, lowering your head, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. The coil tightening inside you is almost unbearable. A kiss is what you lean in for, desperate for more, though Logan appears to have other plans. He fists your hair, pulling at your nape and yanking your head back. The roughness of the movement pulls a moan from your lips, your mouth parched like a desert. 

“Eyes up here, okay? You look at me when I make you come,” his raspy voice makes you feel tingly, each word sending shivers down your spine. His hands fiercely grab the flesh of your hips, guiding you, helping you grind harder against his thigh. You think you’re on the verge of drooling when you catch the way his abdomen flexes, working to push you toward that long-awaited release. “That’s it, there you go,” he rasps, relishing the sounds he’s eliciting from you, each of your gasps feeding his desire.

Time slows as the warmth in your belly finally erupts, your eyes fighting to stay open through the aftershocks of your orgasm. No actual words leave your mouth, just a string of whines and moans, some carrying Logan’s name. He swallows every single sound you make, everything you give him, grunting as your legs tremble and shake atop him.

He lets you collapse onto your back, your breathing gradually evening out. “I think I saw fireworks behind my lids,” you confess, your mouth dry, expecting Logan to flop onto the mattress beside you. But he doesn’t. Through your blurry vision, you contemplate as he positions himself between your parted legs, getting dangerously close to your cunt. “Logan, what are you— Oh, fuck,” you moan mid-sentence when you feel him pulling your panties aside to lick a slow strip through your folds, collecting your arousal. He points his tongue, dipping it into your entrance, and you wince, squirming. “Santa Claus, is that you?”

Logan grins against you, closing his mouth around clit for a moment. He then shifts until he’s eye-to-eye with you, two of his fingers sliding into you in one smooth motion. “Give me another one,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping under your shirt to play with your nipples, pinching them. 

You never imagined two fingers could bring such intense pleasure. You just lie there, taking it like a good girl, as Logan sometimes call you. “Please, I need you,” you cry out, your fingernails scraping against his torso.

“I know, darlin’. I’m right here,” he rasps against your temple, moving his fingers in and out of you with more enthusiasm. But what he doesn’t understand is that you need all of him. Your hands itch to touch him, to feel the weight of his cock. The corners of his mouth turn up as he watches you struggle to find words. “Wish you could see yourself like this. Such a pretty girl, so gorgeous like this,” his fingers keep grazing that bundle of joy deep inside you, and he goes in for a kiss, the sour taste of your slick invading your taste buds. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever had. Need to stretch you real good before fucking you with my cock.”

Bingo! That last sentence does it for you, and you come for the second time in the morning, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. You hide your face in his neck, mouthing at his Adam’s apple. He hasn’t trimmed his beard in days, and it shows because you can now feel a burning sensation on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“You’re allowed to break all my phones from now on,” you suggest, only to hear Logan’s laughter in your ear. He snakes a hand through your hair, shoving it back away from your face. You feel him kiss your sweaty forehead, and as you press yourself closer to his body, something hard nudges your hipbone.

Absentmindedly, you trace the waistband of his boxers with your index finger, your eyes snapping to his face. Logan freezes on the spot, and it’s almost as if he’s stopped breathing. Without a word, he rises from the bed, his movements sudden and almost mechanical. You watch him, puzzled, as he heads toward the bathroom, the intimacy of just moments ago being abruptly replaced by a dreadful silence.

“Logan, is everything okay? Do you need something?” you ask and he pauses at the bathroom door, his back to you. For a brief second, you think he might actually open up, but when he turns around, his expression is neutral, masking whatever thoughts are running through his mind. At last, he flashes you a quick smile.

“I’m fine,” he says, his tone gentle but distant. “Just gonna take a shower. Then we can have breakfast together, right?”

You nod, his words easing the growing sense of frustration gnawing at you. He disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of running water soon follows. You sink back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You take your pillow and bury your face in it, letting out a muffled groan. There’s something he isn't telling you, something hidden deep beneath his usual gruff exterior. Although you try to piece together the fragments of his behavior, they don’t quite fit.

The minutes drag on, and the sound of the shower becomes a distant, constant background noise. You close your eyes, visualizing your happy place, but your thoughts keep spiraling. All you can do is wait—wait for him to come back and act as if nothing had happened.

Logan’s right there, just a few feet away—yet in moments like these, he feels miles apart. It’s one of those days in which, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to bridge that distance. 

It had all started with you asking Logan “Have you ever watched (500) Days of Summer?”

Of course, he had refused to watch the movie at first, and of course, you had threatened him with phoning Wade to let him know that Logan wanted to have a sleepover. That had done the trick.

You had asked for a day off at the bar, and surprisingly, your boss hadn’t objected. That turn of events led to this moment: sprawled out on the couch with Logan, the two of you watching the final minutes of your favorite film. Logan takes a long drag of his cigar, eyes trained intently on the screen. He’s only wearing sweatpants, which had caused your attention to drift from the plot a few times. The fact that you managed to sit through the entire movie without needing to pause it makes you feel particularly invincible.

Hey.

You again.

Yeah. I, uh, was just wondering if maybe after this, if, um, you— you want to get some coffee or something.

Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sort of supposed to meet someone after this.

Okay.

“That poor fella,” Logan murmurs, taking a slow sip of his beer. You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, a contented smile playing on your lips. His fingers absently stroke your hair.

“Just wait,” you say, pointing to the screen of your laptop.

Sure.

What’s that?

Why not?

Okay. Well, then I’ll just, uh— I’ll wait for you.

We— we’ll figure it out.

We’ll figure it out.

“They’ll figure it out!” you exclaim, but Logan quickly shushes you, his attention unwavering.

My name’s Tom.

Nice to meet you. I’m Autumn.

When the movie comes to an end, you’re met with Joseph Gordon-Levitt breaking the fourth wall, staring straight at the audience as if he knows he’s about to get himself into a mess with another girl named after a season. You sit up, your eyes eagerly searching for Logan’s. “So? Did you like it? I’ve watched it seven times now. Can’t understand how it gets better each time.”

Logan closes his mouth around his cigar, inhaling deeply before answering. “Yeah, it was pretty good,” he says, his hand finding your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Summer’s a bitch, though.”

“I respectfully disagree,” you tell him, grabbing his beer and giving it a try, only to grimace at the taste. Shuddering, you set it back down. “Why don’t you like her character?”

“Well, for starters, she did Tom dirty. Played with him like he was a damn rag doll.”

You raise an eyebrow, hugging a cushion closer to your chest as you lean back into the couch. “He knew from the beginning she didn’t want to be his girlfriend. Summer was clear—Tom just though he was smart enough to change her mind.”

“They acted like boyfriend and girlfriend the whole movie,” he scorns, placing his cigar down into the ashtray with a bit more force than necessary.

Is your first argument going to be over a movie? Exciting.

“Logan, they weren’t even official.”

“But she made it seem like they were,” he insists, the frustration in his voice growing.

“They were in a situationship—the perfect example, really. That’s not the same as being a couple.”

His gaze dips to the floor, brows knitted in a deep frown. “I think you’re relying on the technicality that they never used those titles. I mean, they did everything together. Isn’t that what normal couples do?”

Lord have mercy.

“Logan, who am I to you?” you inquire, crossing your arms over your chest.

He hesitates, narrowing his eyes, the question clearly catching him off guard. “You are—what? I don’t understand. Is this some kind of mind game you’re playing?”

“It’s actually very simple: if someone were to ask you about me, what would you say? Am I a friend? A bartender?” you inch forward, holding your breath, your tone faltering slightly. Meanwhile, Logan’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. “A fling? Your girlfriend? You complain so much about Summer, yet you can’t even name what we have.”

The living room falls into a heavy silence. Logan blinks slowly, his forehead creasing as he processes your words. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because these are the kinds of conversations we need to have. I understand you don’t want to have them, but I do.”

“Fine. Then tell me what it is that you want,” he asks, his mouth snapping shut when he sees you snorting in response.

“I don’t— I don’t know! To know how you feel, if possible?” you stand up from the couch, taking the cushion with you. You grind your jaw, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Why is it that every time I try to touch you, you push me away?”

He scrunches up his face, mirroring your movements and rising from his seat. “Bub, can we please talk about this tomorrow—”

“No! You don’t get to make all the choices, that’s not fair. Deciphering you isn’t easy, Logan. I’m not asking you to tell me everything you’ve been through. I just wish I could know how you feel about me. I can’t stand in front of you and pretend I don’t mind where this is going, because I’m more than sure I’m falling in love with you. “

“You can’t. You shouldn’t,” he says, his expression hardening. He turns his back to you, running his hands over his face in frustration before heading to the kitchen.

“Well, what were you expecting?” you follow him into the kitchen, finding Earnest on top of the fridge, beholding the scene with a curious gaze. “You basically moved in here, gave me a free trial of what life with you might be like, and now you have the audacity to appear surprised when I tell you I’ve caught feelings?” salty tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you spread your arms wide in exasperation. “Oh, but you’re right. How could I’ve been this stupid, to fall for the damned Wolverine!” you laugh bitterly, expecting him to break eye contact, but he doesn’t. “You think you’re so bad, so broken. Guess what: you’re not, because I love you, and I couldn’t care less about your past. You may think you’re unlovable, but you’re not, you hear me?”

For a heartbeat, the world seems to pause. And so he says:

“You are the most exasperating person I know.”

“Wow. Thank you so much!” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You run a hand through your hair, infuriated. “That makes me feel better!”

“Let me do the talking now,” he says, taking long strides toward you, and the proximity makes you lower your head. “You’re not getting the final say today. Just because I’m not over-sharing my feelings all the time doesn’t mean I don’t have them! In fact, I do. I may not express them openly, but they exist. And I wish you could see inside my head! You’d be delighted at how much time I spend thinking about you,” you cackle at his words, rolling your eyes. His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “There hasn’t been a single moment since the day we met that I have stopped wanting you. Your voice is like a goddamn radio that, no matter what I do, I can’t turn off. It’s like I’m infected by you, and I hate it!” his eyes burn with a mix of anger and affectionpur, his pursed lips softening as he continues. “No good ever comes from caring this much about someone. So excuse me for being scared of ruining the only good thing that’s happened to me in years!”

You hit him with the cushion—not with enough force to make him hurt, but enough to make a point.

“Drop it, kid.”

“I’m—” you hit him again, “not—” and again, “stupid. I know what I’m getting myself into,” as you attempt to raise the cushion once more, Logan takes it from your hands, throwing it on the counter. Your shoulders sag, trying to find the strength to keep going. “And I know for a fact,” you add, glancing at his conflicted eyes, “that the easiest thing for me would be to walk away from you, but I can’t. It’s too fucking late.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do! These are my feelings, okay? Mine, not yours. You don’t have the right to decide who I love and who I don’t.”

Logan’s eyes squint, scanning your face. “You’re… obnoxious.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“And I—I love you,” he confesses, his nostrils flaring with emotion. Opening your mouth to say something, you close it moments later, your gaze locked on his. “You could take what you said, pretend as if I didn’t exist, and I wouldn’t say a thing, y’understand? I would move cities if you asked me, because I love you that fucking much, and I want you to be happy.”

You reach for his hand, briefly intertwining your fingers with his. Looking at him through your eyelashes, you rub your fingers over his stubble. “And what if my happiness comes from being with you?”

Logan lets out a harsh breath, his arm curling around your waist, pressing his chest to yours. “I can’t promise I’ll be the perfect boyfriend. I’ll probably makeplenty of mistakes.”

“Fine with me.”

“And you’ll be mad at me. A lot.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure it’s mutual.”

Both of you laugh then, and you’re taken aback when he brushes his nose against your cheek, silently seeking permission to kiss you. His lips move hungrily against yours, trailing his hands down your spine, pulling you closer. He breaks the kiss and laughs at your eagerness when you chase after his mouth. You end up perched on his lap as he settles into one of your kitchen chairs. Logan stares into your eyes, his gaze drifting lower. “I won’t push you away this time. Not anymore.”

That’s your cue to finally do what you’ve been yearning for weeks. You fall to your knees in front of him, shaky fingers that graze the hairs on his happy trail. The bulge in his sweatpants is close to your face, and your mouth waters at the thought of having him between your lips. “Can I?” you ask, your voice a touch higher. 

He draws a long breath, tilting his head slightly. “You may, baby.”

You pull at his sweatpants and boxers, sliding them down his legs just enough to free his hard cock. As you take a look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, the sight overwhelming. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips, that musky scent of his hitting you.

A whimper escapes you, and Logan hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, darlin’. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he cants his hips up, causing your movements to stutter. “You can take a bit more, can’t you?” his question ends with a guttural grunt, his fingers tightening on your hair. “Gotta show me how much you want this.”

Logan takes all that you give him. You lower your head further, taking in another inch of him. Sex’s supposed to feel good, but this? It feels even greater. And he’s not even inside you yet, you hear a voice murmur in your head. The hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you sneak a hand between your bodies, grasping him by the base. You swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair..

“Thaaaat’s it, honey. Just like that, want you to choke on it,” he grumbles, running his mouth just the way you like. The tip of his cock nudges the back of your throat and tears fill your eyes. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure. Logan’s gaze is intense, and he stares into your soul, his chest heaving. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Dick got your tongue?”

You’ll definitely get back to that joke later.

“Will you—can you—”

“Come on, beautiful. I don’t have all day.”

God, you love it when he’s mean.

“Fuck my throat,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips. “We both know you can be nicer.”

The fucker makes your pulse race. “Can you fuck my throat?” you ask again, more insistently. “Please.”

He guides himself into your mouth, smirking as he watches how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “How polite of you to say please. Some good manners you’ve got.”

You whimper around him, your body responding to the rhythm he sets, fully immersed in the intensity of the moment. And for a while, you drift away, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. It’s almost impossible not to compare him to your past hookups. You try to recall at least a single instance when another man made you feel this way, but no memory surfaces.

Time seems to stretch and warp. You don’t really know when it happens—he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, examining you. “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with that sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. Defeated, Logan shakes his head, pressing his finger against your tongue. “I was planning on coming on your mouth, but I think I’ve got a better idea.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re in your bedroom. Not even a metaphor—he picks you up and basically runs to your room, closing the door behind him. You prop yourself on your forearms, trying to process what’s about to happen. Logan, already naked, climbs onto the bed after you, He kisses you slowly, tracing the curves of your body. “You still want this?”

“I do. I’m just… nervous, that’s all,” you admit, flashing him a quick smile. “It’s been two years of celibacy for me. Will it fit?” you ask, glancing down at his cock, and Logan stares at you in confusion. “Also, how many girlfriends have you had? Just curious.”

“I don’t think this is the time for that conversation.”

“You’re right,” you agree, lying back on the mattress, bracing yourself for what’s to come. “Were they pretty?”

“Bub.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” he replies with a smirk. “Focus on me, okay?”

Despite your tries to crack jokes at the worst possible moment, things escalate pretty quickly. Logan’s got three fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. He’s already made you come once with his mouth—to get you more relaxed, he had said. Wanting sounds slip past your lips as he doesn’t miss the chance to hit that spot that makes you squeeze your legs together. The tip of his nose drags long lines up and down the skin of your neck, mouthing at your jaw.

“I’m ready,” you mumble after some minutes, reaching for his cock and stroking him. “Let’s break the bed.”

“You’re lucky you’re this cute,” he says, catching your lips in a kiss. “Condom?”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“You don’t have any?”

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want you to use one.”

The way his gaze darkens doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hand guides your face toward his cock. “Get me wet,” he commands, and you oblige, sucking him into your mouth. You hum around him, unable to contain yourself, and you hear Logan chuckling above you. “Can’t believe this is what it takes for you to shut up. Gotta keep your mouth full all the time.”

Once he’s satisfied with the way you’ve slicked him, he positions himself over you, caging you between his arms. Logan pins you down with his body, his hot breath mingling with yours. When you stare into his eyes, all you see is pure love, and your heart swells with affection. “Will you fuck the bad jokes out of me?”

Logan laughs, rubbing his length along your folds, grazing your clit for a fleeting second. “I sure as hell will,” he assures you, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks into your eyes for approval. “Ready?”

“I was born rea— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head breaches you, your eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. “Fucking mutant dick.”

“You’ll love it, believe me,” he husks next to your ear. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. Logan pulls out, and then fucks into you with a little more force.  “How are you still so tight? You’re killin’ me here.”

“I’ve got no idea, but you feel—amazing,” you gasp, latching onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. “Oh, god. I can feel you in my stomach.”

“I know, baby, I know. Can feel it too,” he curls one of his hands around your throat, keeping you in place. From his position, he can watch the way your face contorts in pleasure. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips, he sucks hard. “You were desperate enough to get on your knees in the damn kitchen. You’ll be good now too, am I right?”

“Yes. Yes. I can be good,” you pant, eyes wide and pleading. “Anything you want. Just don’t stop.”

“I’m not stoppin’, princess. Don’t worry,” his mouth curves into a wicked grin as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. His hand on your throat tightens slightly, just enough to make you feel the pressure, grounding you in the moment. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs against your chest, his voice laden with need. 

Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Logan’s grip on your neck loosens as his hand slides down to grasp your hip. He squeezes your tender flesh, pulling you harder against him, as if he can’t get close enough. The bed creaks under the intensity, but you barely notice, too far lost in the rhythm of his movements.

“You’re perfect, all I’ve ever wanted,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him repeat, more to himself than to you, his voice stranded as he tries to hold himself back, letting you chase your own release first.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening with every skilled flick of his fingers. You’re sure you must look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, though the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Logan, I’m—” you croak, the wind being knocked out of your lungs with each relentless thrust. “I think I’m gonna come.”

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you, let go for me. I’ll take care of you, baby, I swear,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall. Your body obeys him, a shuddering release tearing through you, moaning Logan’s name and gripping him like a vice. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, driving you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, contemplating how wrecked you look. “Tell me where—please, sweetheart.”

“Inside.”

“What?”

“I said inside. Come inside me, Logan.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. Logan buries himself to the hilt, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls with his thick seed. Beside your head, his claws unsheate, tearing into the pillow. He ruts against you, his body trembling and writhing against yours, already apologizing for the pillow incident while pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

When Logan collapses beside you, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you eagerly. You return the kiss, wincing as you feel a bit of his cum slip out of you, rolling down your thighs. He stares at your glistening cunt without an ounce of remorse, and you close your legs. “That’s private.”

“It wasn’t very private a minute ago.”

“Logan?”

“Tell me, bub.”

“Knock, knock.”

He must truly love you, because he plays along: “Who’s there?”

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream who?”

“Ice cream for you all night long.”

“Guess I didn’t succeed in fuckin’ the bad jokes out of you,” he teases softly, letting his head fall back on the bed. “But it’s fine. I’ll just have to keep tryin’.”

This is the story of how you end up dating a man who’s two hundred years old. But it’s also the story of how that same man learns to let his guard down and open his heart. So, remember this, kids: the sky’s the limit, especially when it comes to love—and yes, even when it involves dating mutants.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[jinxthequeergirl]

The Ol Switcharoo (pt2)

Stan pines x reader /ford pines x reader

Summary: Your family vacation lasted longer than expected. When you return home to Stanford, you realize quickly something wrong.

Warning: NONE

Hey! Just some housekeeping before you read on

☆Thanks for all the love ya'll it means bunches

☆this part is shorter do to me wanting to pace this better, but I hope yall enjoy none the less!

☆a few of ya'll asked to be tagged so I'm starting a tag list if you'd like to be included don't hesitate to ask

☆additionally I did have a Playlist for this specific series and if ya'll would like me to post the songs for it also lemme know

Enjoy!

~~~~~☆~~~~~

"STANLEY HELP!"

Stan felt himself freeze up, his heart race and mind go blank, why couldn't he think? Why couldn't he move?

He watched in horror as his brother floated up backwards through the air into the gaping hole in space and time.

"Do something!"

"What...what do i do!?" He asked meekly, looking around for something to help.he watched as parts of his brother slowly disappeared, and as he reached into his coat pocket and tossed something at him. "Hide my research...CALLL Y/N ANYTHING-"

Stan shielded his eyes as a bright white light filled the room and knocked him back onto the floor. The room was suddenly quiet.

"Ford!?...Ford! Come back!" He wasted no time to get back up and bang on the machine, hoping it would start back up like an old appliance. "Please!"

He raced to the lever a few feet away, desperately pulling and yanking at it, but it didn't budge.

"Stanford!?...Ford!? Are you home yet!?" The small coo of an unfamiliar voice snapped Stan from his nightmare.

"Hello!?" The voice echoed out again. He quickly got up, reaching for his only form of security. A baseball bat.

The voice had gone silent, but he could still hear someone moving he took a long pause, then opened the door swinging his bad.

"FORD WAIT! WAIT, IT'S ME! ITS Y/N!!"

Y/n?

He stopped swinging the bat and stared down at you.

"Call y/n! Anything-"

"Y/n?"

"Yes, it's me, Ford! I haven't been gone that long have i?"

He cleared. "No not at all we have some catching up to do."

You could tell there was something ford...well stan (you'd have to get used to the sudden name change) wanted to tell you while you sat across from him. Like he wanted to give you bad news. But he seemed to be thinking of the right way to put it.

"So..stan...what made you want to change from Ford to stan? Did your family have that much of an impact on you?" You tried to joke to lighten the tension that seemed to linger in the air.

"Well...something like that...listen y/n-"

"Are you OK? You seem...different you seem nervous...more nervous then when I left.." You placed your hand over top of his and offered a reasuring smile.

"I..."

stan didn't know you...he had no right to lie to you. But Ford seemed to trust you and judging from the photo on his desk in the basement, how fondly he seemed to write about you in the journal...the scrapped drawings of you in the garbage you meant a whole lot more to him then stan could understand right now, you must have felt the same way about his brother.

He remembered how worried his brother had been in making sure he understood you were absolutely under no circumstances to not touch the journals or anything pertaining to it again.

"My closest friend y/n and I have been working on this project for months now...I should have listened to her but I didn't...I need you to get rid of this journal she can't be near any of this when she returns."

"Did something happen with the portal?...with that...creature? And what happened to your hands!" You said now, pulling both hands into yours to examine them.

Besides, you already seemed so worried. He couldn't be the one to break the news to you. Not now.

Besides, he had a plan.

Sort of.

So he did what he did best.

Lied.

"Well...uh while you were away, I had a little accident. I had to get surgery...yea surgery, and the accident you know was from the portal...so I said, Forget the whole thing! "

He Tried to say it in a way that would convince even himself.

"Stanford, what do you mean? What happened? Are you just going to give up on everything we worked for?"

"I have to, I just need some time."

Neither of you noticed at first that you were holding hands as you spoke. Stan was the first to notice the closeness. It was the first time in what felt like years that anyone had shown him this kind of affection, let alone the kindness you were demonstrating with your concern.

"I don't know what happened while I was away or when you even had time for something to go wrong or why you would even start working again without me!" He noticed the slight annoyance building up and squeezed your hand.

And you took a breath. "But I understand and I won't pretend to know what happened and if you aren't ready to tell me I can respect that...things got a little rocky between us before I left and I'm really just hoping things can go back to the way they used to be with us. If a longer break and time is what you need... then I am 100% behind your decision."

He felt a wave of relief wash over him at your words. Maybe it wasn't your words but the kind-hearted look in your eyes, or maybe it was the way you still held his hands in yours.

You'd be the first two admit two things about your current situation.

One, Nostalgia was a funny thing. You knew when something was off about your bestfriend, the man infront of you was was a changed man, while his story didn't add up he looked shaken and defeated...after all this was the man you trusted with half your life. And you wouldn't lie, you had clung so desperately to the memories of college and spring through winter, it was that glimmer of hope and a mix of Nostalgia for your good times together that made you believe him.

And two, You always knew better then to trust your heart you and Ford would joke about the idea of following your heart and not your brain, how silly a concept it was that the organ that pumped blood through your body had such a pull on your decision making it made your thought process stop.

Yet here you where.

Following your heart.

"How about a few drinks and I can tell you about my trip?" You offered standing and being the first to break the lock between your hands. "And I can tell you about the plans I have for this place!"

"Plans?"

"Sure! I mean, we aren't doing our science junk anymore, so we need to make money somehow, right?"

You set down two glasses.

"Ok?"

You sat down, you listened to him explain how he had already done a few tours displaying whatever you had already had laying around and how people where eating it up.

"Stanford you've never been one for the gimmicky tricks, you've always cared more about the real deal...WE'VE been about the real deal...why lie to people?"

"Trust me y/n do a tour with me tomorrow try to show the people a real life monster and whatchamacallit and put it up against my made up creature."

You laughed. This wasn't what you had expected Stanford pines to spend his break away from work doing. It was out of character for him. But refreshing somehow.

Just like that, the seasons changed, and it was spring again

You learned quickly people didn't like the truth.

Real monsters and ghouls seemed to only upset or bother people so you and stan collaborated a way to make attractions that seemed real enough but also gimmicky enough that tourists would eventually laugh at it.

You learned pretty quickly that you were not only a pretty crafty person but an excellent storyteller.

You and Stanford seemed to almost pick up where you left off bonding and cracking jokes. It was like he was more confident than when you left him, more relaxed and full of life. You two fit right back into place with eachother with out missing a beat.

It's exactly what you'd been missing.

Soon, you were renovating half the house to be a showroom and giftshop, and soon after you were selling and wearing t shirts, you began putting up a sign. By the following summer, you were basically an operational business.

The mystery shack felt more like a brain child of you and Stanford and you cared for it like such.

It was something fun.

Something that didn't seem to be running Stanford down like the science stuff did. You could see a genuine smile on his face as he showed some local kid the corni-corn.

It was silly. You couldn't remember the last time you'd done something silly and adventurous.

It felt good.

"Another day another dollar y/n my dear." Stan said, flipping the open sign to close and placing his little red fez cap on top of your head.

"Soon enough, we'll have people from all over the place coming to get a piece of the mystery shack." He said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, leading you back to the section of the Mystery shack that was still your shared home.

"Yea, we have a real Walt Disney start-up story, don't we stanford." He laughed loudly before suddenly getting serious.

"Listen. I wanted to say thank you for sticking with me through this. It means a lot."

"Of course, stanford." You reached up and planted a small peck on his cheeks. "We've been through everything together. I'm not going to stop now."

You could see stans face flush slightly as you stretched and yawned. "Anyways goodnight stanford."

"Uh yea...goodnight..." You heard him mumble as he touched his cheek where you kissed him.

Things where looking up.

~~~~~☆~~~~~

Tag list!:

@fanficcrow

@slay-thou-pookie

[yoditopascal]

Like A Prayer (Part One)

summary: best friends with wade you’re always being dragged into something even when he’s not trying to, what are you to do when you find the fate of your timeline in the hands of yourself, your chaotic merc and an angry wolverine who’s hellbent on drinking himself to death?

content warning: romance, some angst, a little fluff, character deaths, canon-typical violence, smut, lots of cussing, mutual pining, found family, drug and alcohol use, reader insert but with no use of y/n cuz I hate that shit, deadpool being deadpool, mentions of poor mental health (depression anxiety and ptsd mostly), scent marking, the honda odyssey scene needs a warning all on its own MINORS DNI

a/n: lots of wade in this one but no wolverine just yet!

tag list: @allmyn1ghts, @oscarissac2099

Masterlist//Next Chapter

Not Ok

Flashes of images invaded your mind. You were in a tank, arms restrained to your sides as the oxygen was slowly sucked out of the chamber, suffocating you. Your nails digging into the leather cushioning beneath you as you try to claw your way out.

Now you were strapped to a table, an array of needles embedded into your arms and legs as you were injected painfully with all kinds of different things you weren’t even sure of.

You startled awake before the sound of your alarm had a chance to rouse you from your sleep. Groggily you run a shaky hand over your face before rolling over to grab your phone checking the time. You still had about 3 hours before it was time to get up and get ready for work. Knowing you most likely weren’t going to go back to sleep, not that you wanted to anyways, you toss the covers off of you and head to the bathroom.

You turn the water of the shower on, waiting for it to heat up as you stand back up you catch a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror, taking in your disheveled appearance you sigh as you lean over the sink.

There’s visible dark circles under your eyes from being torn from sleep countless times over the last few months. You were sure why the nightmares had started back up again, it had been years since you had been freed from the Weapon X program so why was it all coming back now?

Pulling your tank top over your head you quickly undressed and hopped into the shower. The water cascaded over you, the warmth a welcome relief. You closed your eyes, as you felt your tired muscles slowly start to relax under the soothing spray. Lathering up your soap on a loofa you quickly washed and dried yourself putting on ample amounts of makeup to hide your dark circles.

Once dressed you sat down at your little table in the kitchen and helped yourself to a bowl of cereal as you checked your phone again.

So much shit was happening in the world, genocides, corrupt politicians running for power, starving children. It was all you saw anytime you opened up anything and it was all too much. The world was going to complete shit

You lock your phone and check the time, you still had about an hour before work. Slipping on your shoes you grab your keys and your bag and head out the door nearly bumping into Wade who was munching on a bagel in the hallway.

“Jesus fuck Wade!” You said placing a hand over your rapidly beating heart. “You scared the shit outta me!”

“My bad pookie bear. Didn’t know you worked today.” He said with a shrug adjusting his wig as he did so.

“Almost every day this week.” You said with a sigh rubbing a hand down your tired face. You had been doing that a lot lately. “God I’m so tired.”

“I hear OnlyFans is really popping off right now.”Wade said but it was hard to tell if he was joking or not with his straight face.

“Yeah? So what, you and Vanessa can be my only subscribers?” You snorted with an exaggerated laugh.

“I know for a fact Colossus would pay top dollar for a sneak peak of your toes!”

The sound of your ex's name made you grimace. Not that you had any ill will towards him, you were both still good friends albeit a bit awkward now that you’ve dated for a short time, but you still didn’t want the thought of him anyway near anything sexual you did.

“Hard pass.”

“Suit yourself.” Wade said taking another bite from his bagel and you two walked down the hall together.

You start to rub at your forehead as you felt a headache coming on as you walked, another occurrence that had started to happen more and more often.

“More nightmares?” Wade asks, his voice laced with concern as he watched you.

“Yeah…but don’t worry about it Wade.” You could handle yourself, a few ibuprofen and you’d be fine.

He calls your name, as if to say it’s too late not to be worried about you, but you wave him off as you dig around in your backpack for a second before pulling out a small black envelope.

“Happy birthday by the way! You’re hard as fuck to shop for so I hope you like it.” You smile at him as you hold out the gift hoping to change the subject.

With an exaggerated gasp Wade tosses his bagel behind him and holds up his hands up in surprise before taking the envelope from you, and ripping it open. Inside were two tickets to a Celine Dion concert, one of his favorite artists.

“Oh my-!” He starts with a gasp “I didn’t even know she was touring!” He cried excitedly as he pulled you into a tight hug.

“Yeah I had to basically stalk Ticketmaster for those so you’re welcome.” You said returning the hug.

“Sugar booger! I love it!” He said releasing you.

“Now you just gotta figure out who to take with you.” You said as you bump shoulders with him. “Maybe Peter….oooor I don’t know maybe a certain someone we all know and love who works at a particular strip club that we like to visit on occasion?”

“Peanut…” Wade warned, you held up your hands in surrender. It was like a kid trying to get their divorced parents back together.

“Look, all I’m saying is it wouldn’t hurt to ask her.”

“I’ll think about it.” He says quietly as he stares out deep in thought.

With that the two of you part ways, wishing each other a good day at work, Wade heading for his bike where Peter was waiting and waving at you, and you heading toward the bus stop.

Work at the pet shop was the same as always, mundane and mind numbing but it paid the rent so who were you to complain about it. You had your fair share of zooted teens coming in to ask dumbass questions and waste your time as well as the occasional fish snob who complained about the size of your tanks but all of that was typical of a normal day and honestly made it go by quicker. By the time you realized what time it was it was time to clock out and head on home to help set up for Wade’s surprise party.

Once home you dropped off your bag and changed your clothes putting on a loose fitted t-shirt and jeans with a cardigan before heading over to Wade’s place with a bunch of drinks. You didn’t drink much but everytime Wade went out on a “business trip”, as he called them, back in his Deadpool days he’d bring you back a bottle of something.

Inside Wade and Blind Al’s apartment across the hall, many of your mutual friends were already busy at work setting up for the party. Colossus Ellie and Yukio were busy blowing up balloons and decorating while Dopinder Buck and Vanessa were busy setting up the food spread.

Looking around yourself you felt a small smile tug at the corner of your lips, all around you were the people you and Wade loved the most and you were incredibly lucky to have them in your lives after everything you all had been through over the years. A pang in your chest made you hold a hand over it and your smile dropped. Something still felt missing though and no matter how hard you thought about it you just couldn’t place what it was.

“How you doing sweetheart?” A soft voice pulled you from your thoughts. Whipping around you were pulled into a tight hug by Blind Al.

“I’m doing alright.” You smiled weakly “How’d you know it was me?”

“I’m blind not deaf sweetheart,” she said “ain’t nobody else here sighing that hard but you and Wade and Wade’s not here yet.”

“Sorry.”

“Your dreams still giving you trouble?” She asks as she leads you further into the home.

“I wouldn’t say dreams, more like night terrors but yeah they are a little.” You say as you place the bag said booze you bought on the kitchen counter and follow Al to the living room where she seated herself comfortably in her recliner. “It’s nothing to worry about though.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter baby.”

For someone who was blind Al sure could see right through you sometimes.

“I’m probably just stressed is all.” You try to downplay the situation but Al wasn’t having it.

“It’s been months.” She says matter of factly.

“It’s been a stressful few months.”

“Look… I may not have been there when you and Wade went through what you went through in that program but it’s over now. It’s done and that Ajax guy can’t hurt you anymore.” She said resting a hand in her arm gently.

Al hadn’t been a part of the Weapon X program like you and Wade had been but that hadn’t stopped him from telling her in excruciating detail about all the horrible shit you both had gone through during it.

“I know Al I just-“ you start but stop not fully knowing how to describe what you felt. “I just wish I could switch my brain off, just hit the reset button and be done with it but I- can’t get the memories outta my head.”

“I know sweetheart it’s gonna take time but time ain’t gonna do shit if you don’t let people in to help you.”

You knew she was right but you’d be damned if you’d admit it out loud.

“When did this turn into a therapy session? I thought this was supposed to be a party.”

“Smart ass.” She said tapping you on the leg with her cane. “Go help Vanessa make the jungle juice before he gets home. I’m gonna go see if that dumbass has any Bolivian marching powder left in his stash.” With that she stood to her feet and went to her’s and Wade’s shared bedroom

“Oh Al come on! I thought you guys were done with that.” You called after her with a frown.

“Not till I’m dead babygirl.” She called back and if she could you think she’d wink at you.

Back in the kitchen you and Vanessa make quick work mixing and setting up the drink you bought making light conversation as you do so.

“So-“ she starts off but pauses as if deep in thought for a moment.

“So?” You ask curiously as you take a sip of the alcoholic punch taste testing to see if it needed anything.

“You uh seeing anybody new yet?” She asks.

You nearly choke on your drink in surprise.

“N-no I uh no I’m not.” You stuttered trying to compose yourself. “Are you?”

“Y-yeah there’s this guy. I met him at work, he’s kind.”

You could tell she was lying, but didn’t speak on it.

“Y’know, I hear Colossus has been talking about you to Ellie a lot lately.”

Here we go again you thought.

“Oh nah hard pass we tried that dance already didn’t really work out.” You waved her off, but she continued anyway.

“I’m just saying he’s a nice guy, and he’s big, like everywhere, and made of metal, that’s like totally your thing. Remember when we saw the Winter Soldier and you wouldn’t shut up about Bucky’s metal arm?”

Not she was calling you out.

“Just think about it hun, you're always stuck up in your apartment or at work, you’re lonely and I think a little human connection would do you some good.”

“Yeah alright I’ll think about it.” She smiles at you before caressing your cheek, like she was the big sister you never knew you had.

“But only if you think about giving Wade another chance too.” You slip in “Deal?”

She contemplates for a moment before she smiles back at you again. You knew she still had feelings for the man and so did he.

“Deal.”

Before either of you could change the topic of your conversation the front door opened up again, this time revealing Peter and Wade.

“Surprise!” Everyone shouted as Dopinder Ellie and Yukio threw confetti into the air.

“Oh you guys!” Wade gasps dramatically. “You’re lucky I’m not armed!”

“If this was five years ago you’d all be dead.” He laughed as he went around hugging everyone.

The party went on without a hitch. Wade intermingling with everyone as he was passed around the room. You stayed in your own little corner as you watched sipping on your third drink for the evening. Parties weren’t really your thing but for Wade you’d endure them when you had to. Just as you were about to move to get yourself another drink you spotted Wade and Vanessa talking quietly amongst themselves in the kitchen hovering over the punch bowl. With a smile just glad they were finally talking to each other you thought it better not to disturb them for the time being.

Soon after however you all found yourselves piling into the kitchen as Wade called for everyone to come and cut the cake. Wade snapped a few pictures on Yukio’s Polaroid, making some cheesy speech about how lucky he was to be surrounded each and every person he ever loved in one room, something you rolled your eyes at even though you had found yourself thinking the same thing just earlier, before going to make a wish blowing out his birthday candles as he did so.

The party continued to progress throughout the night and the stuffiness of all the bodies in the room was starting to get to you. Excusing yourself from conversing with Buck and Peter you step out into the hallway for a moment to try and get some air. Your head felt like it was swimming, probably from all the alcohol and not enough food, and you were starting to feel nauseated as a pounding sound hammered through your skull. Eventually you decided to take a step outside to get some actual air to see if that would help.

After a handful of greedy gulps of the fresh night air you finally decide to return to the party before anyone came looking for you. Once inside your hallway you spotted Wade first, but he wasn’t alone this time. Surrounding him were at least 5 guys all dressed in black body armor and masks with weird electrical looking batons in their grasps. Immediately your defenses rose as you silently crept up behind them.

“Oh peanut, you came back! I’d offer to let you join in on the orgy but I don’t think this guy here’s down for sharing me.” Wade quips as he sucks on a breath mint leaning on his doorway. His comment drew most of the men’s attention towards you but not before he drew it back to himself. It seemed that they could care less that you were even there. “He’s got this whole hate sex, love 'em and leave' em vibe going for him right now.”

“Shut your mouth clown!” The guy in the front snaps as he goes to grab Wade by his toupee. Just as he grabs it an orange doorway opens up behind Wade and a pair of arms reach out pulling him inside causing his hair system to get ripped off.

“Wade!” You shout as you sprung into action, using all your weight you shove two of the guys causing the three of you to fall through the strange orange doorway just before it closed behind you.

[kjhmyg]

rough edges pt. 19 (m) pairing: jungkook | reader genre: college!au, fluff, slight angst word count: 34k warnings: mentions of death, drug use, unprotected sex. 

summary: when you uncover your boyfriend's private life, a deep dive into it sucks you in as you try to help save him from himself.

a/n: i love you all, an epilogue will come after this, and then we're officially done. i hope you've enjoyed this long ride with me <3

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 6.5 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / part 19 / masterlist

RE asks tag / pinterest board

The revelation took a while to digest.

An hour later, and you’re still reeling from the surprise. After dinner, Namjoon retreated back to his apartment next door, one that had been vacant since the night of the raid. Your head continues to buzz. Everything had come to a standstill when the words spilled from Namjoon’s mouth. You were stunned into silence, eyes searching for any hint that he may be joking. But there was none of that, rather, a look of pride blooming on his face as he turned to your boyfriend. Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend, was his informant. 

⎼

By Jungkook’s request, you’re staying over, but it wasn’t like you were planning on leaving anyway. You’d gotten Namjoon to speak with Hana so she wouldn’t worry when you told her you’d be away for the night. She thinks you’re staying over his place to get some space, which isn’t entirely a lie. But you left out a crucial aspect. Your desire to be proven right about Jungkook flew out the window hours ago. It doesn’t matter that she or anyone else doesn’t know he’s alive. They don’t need to know (and not until Namjoon clears it anyway). The calm night sky rests in contrast to the bright, bubbling city underneath. A collection of lives unfold before you in countless small frames. Each window gives you a glimpse into a stranger’s world, and you realise the beauty of humans living alongside each other, fighting their own battles and hiding behind a mask of smiles and superficial posts. Yellow and red lights line the road below, heavy traffic continuing even at this time of the night. If you listen closely, you can even hear the rumbling of a motorcycle engine and the honks of tired drivers. Safe in your boyfriend’s room, away from the madness, a feeling of content washes over you. The cool wind from the AC leaves goosebumps over your exposed skin, clothed only in one of Jungkook’s shirts. Jungkook steps out of the bathroom after a shower, and catches your eye from across the room. Tossing his towel aside, he walks over and lets you snuggle up to him, practically melting into you himself. “So nice and warm.” you mumble against his shoulder. He chuckles, then brings his finger to your chin, lifting you up so he can land a soft, innocent kiss. Sighing right after, he mumbles. “I’ve missed this.” The light shining through the windows land perfectly on his face, accentuating his features. You brush his hair back to take a good look. There’s a subtle difference about him, a shift in his aura. The smile he now wears is innocent and childlike, as if the part of him that held up a tough front has completely melted away. Your hand comes up to his cheek and he lets his head sink into your palm affectionately. He flashes a smile and you feel yourself getting lifted off the floor, hooking your arms around him in surprise. The couch in the living area has been unfolded into a huge bed, covered in a large blanket, bordered with pillows. Jungkook lets you down gently before turning down the lights. You slide your feet under the covers, taking refuge from the cold, and he joins you soon after, walking back with drinks and snacks from the kitchen. “I bought a bunch of stuff and put it on Namjoon’s tab.” He giggles, leaving them on the coffee table at the side. You can’t stop staring at the way he’s visibly at ease now more than ever before, and at the same time in disbelief that he’s right in front of you. Noticing this as he makes himself comfortable, he pulls you in closer and tucks stray strands of hair behind your ear. “Did you like the flowers?” “I knew that was you!” The sudden outburst has him laughing. “The note at the cafe too?” You huff when he confirms your theory. “I wasn’t allowed to make direct contact, so I did it discreetly. But then my handler found out I’d gone to the cafe, and Namjoon lectured me about it. So I had to stop.” “And then the playlist?” He nods. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier.” He confesses. Recalling the events of the night, Jungkook can’t help but to smile to himself. “I didn’t know Namjoon was gonna reveal everything tonight.” “It’s crazy,” you say, “I haven’t seen him in weeks. And suddenly he shows up and tells me he needs to talk about the case.” Jungkook scoffs at the thought. “He’s so dramatic.” “You’re pretty close now, huh?” You ask, tilting your head as you think of how much he had hated Namjoon initially. “Yes and no.” Jungkook shrugs when you hit him with a confused look. “It’s complicated.” 

⎼

Jungkook struts down the street, eyeing every alley he walks past. He’d been getting updates from their runners about a man asking questions for the last month or so. Two weeks ago, Jungkook decided to check it out, only watching from afar. He sees the suspect walking with his hands in his pocket, hat covering his eyes, surveying and talking to people in the area. There’s a chance it’s nothing, sometimes people are just curious. But one too many complaints, and it would reach Kyun, which would escalate quickly. So Jungkook takes it upon himself to sort it out. “Hey!” Jungkook calls out, walking up to two figures talking in the dark of an alley a block away from the boss’ club. One of them he recognises, running off with a nod from Jungkook. Jungkook gives the suspect a once over. A mask covers his face, and the hat pulled down over his eyes, but it’s clear to Jungkook he’s not a customer. “Can I help you?” The guy shrugs, shaking his head. “Was just looking for some supplies.” Jungkook nods slowly. “I can get you that. You selling or just personal use?” “Personal.” He says. He nods in the direction where the previous runner had left. “What was wrong with that guy?” “Oh nothing.” Jungkook says. “Just that I could probably get you a better rate. He gets his supplies from me, so either way, it’s the same thing.” “I see.” Jungkook searches his jacket, hands going in and out of pockets only to come up empty. He looks at the man before him, “Shit, sorry man, seems I don’t have any on me right now. Why don’t you come over to our club, I have some there.” The man clicks his tongue, waving his hand. “It’s fine. I’ll just come back another time.” If someone were really desperate for a hookup, they would've taken the bait. The man’s aversion to his offer made him all the more suspicious to Jungkook. As he attempts to walk past, Jungkook’s hand lands firmly on his shoulder. The man is slightly taller, but he can clearly feel Jungkook’s strength. And though Jungkook hasn’t said a word, he knows he’s been made. He takes a step back, eyeing Jungkook. “It’s risky stuff. You might not want to pull on this thread.” “Get your hand off me, kid.” “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I suggest you stay away if you’re not here for supplies.” Jungkook warns him. His body language remains unchanged, and Jungkook’s positive now that he has an ulterior motive. “I’ll let you off tonight. But maybe next time, you won’t be so lucky.” Jungkook turns, and walks off, pausing only a couple of steps ahead. “But if you really do need some, come and find me.” He turns back only a fraction of the way, nodding his head, before speeding off. Once he’s sure Jungkook’s gone, Namjoon lets out the breath he’s been holding.

⎼

As Jungkook predicted, this guy doesn’t spook easily. Anyone who’s ever heard of their crew would suffice with a single warning. But not Namjoon. Two days later when Jungkook patrols down the same route, things looked ordinary enough. He goes on for a while without finding anything suspicious, and figures maybe that his warning did work after all. Lucky for Jungkook, because now he can get back to work. But as he does, he comes across a commotion along the way to the club. It’s not unusual in these areas. One two many drinks, or a line of coke later, and people lose all sense of sanity. Many times, he’s had to step in before someone gets hurt or calls the police. It’s only when he gets nearer to the source that he recognises the woman yelling as one of their own, fighting off three men who can’t seem to take the hint. Instinctively, he runs towards them but pauses just before he crosses the road. Something’s caught his attention. He sees someone else making a beeline towards the fuss, bulldozing his way into the men, and knocking them down like bowling pins. Even from across the street, Jungkook finds him familiar. The hat and the drabby navy blue jacket, it’s him. He’s strong, but he doesn’t fight from experience. He’s too strategic with his moves, clearly trained. It doesn’t take long before the three men give up, stumbling over as they attempt to run off. Jungkook watches his attention shift to the woman after. From a safe distance, Jungkook trails after them as he walks her to the club, stopping at a distance away and waving her off. She turns to give him a kiss on the cheek before rushing inside. Jungkook scoffs, “What a weasel.”

⎼

“This isn’t the first time a cop is sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.” Jungkook circles Namjoon, eyeing him down in a parking lot of a grocery. “You’re lucky I’m the one standing here.” “Oh yeah?” Namjoon pops open a bottle and chugs some of it down. “Why is that?” “If it was anyone else, you’d already be lying in a pool of your own blood.” Now that Jungkook has seen his face, and right through his cover, infiltrating the gang would be foolish at this point. He never thought his cover would be blown so quickly, before it even started. But his anonymity wasn't the only edge he had. Namjoon had done in depth research about the members, he knows what to expect from each one, and here standing in front of him is one he knows all too well. “I don’t want any trouble.” Namjoon raises his palms. “Can we talk?” “You’re risking your life just for a conversation?” “You look like you’re just a kid,” Namjoon’s comment confuses Jungkook, “do they usually start as young as you do?” “This isn’t an interview.” Jungkook’s walls come up. Something’s off about this guy, and he doesn’t like being around him. “You need to stop, I’m not kidding. These guys, they don’t play, they’re not the usual bad guys you⎼” “So I’ve heard.” “Then you know it’s in your best interest if I never see you around again.” Jungkook leaves it at that, walking away, hoping he’d take the warning seriously. “Hey kid.” Namjoon calls out. “You go to Inha University, right?” Jungkook’s steps slow down, contemplating on turning back, but that would just give him the satisfaction. Knowing that much about him, means he’s an actual threat. At this point, Jungkook knows he’s trouble. But escalating this would mean he’d be dead by tomorrow. Namjoon patiently waits for a response. Jungkook turns back to him, a serious look on his face. “I’m gonna do you a favour and forget what just happened. Leave. I’m serious. If I get word about you snooping around again, I might actually have to kill you.” Namjoon backs off, but not out of defeat. Jungkook couldn’t have given him a better response; he could have killed him right there, but he didn’t. Namjoon even gave him a second chance to do it, and again, he held back. “I guess I can’t give up just yet.” Namjoon mutters to himself. 

⎼

1 week later

The only thing Jungkook hates more than a meddler, is a persistent one. The moment his eyes land on a certain man he remembers telling to stay away, Jungkook knows this guy is going to make life difficult for him. Right after training, as he’s about to mount his bike, Namjoon walks over. The school compound is quiet at this time of evening. With no one around, Jungkook grabs him by the collar as soon as he’s within reach. “What the fuck are you doing here?” “I need to talk to you.” “Do you have a death wish? If anyone catches⎼” “No one else knows how I look like.” Namjoon shrugs, “Unless…”Jungkook averts his gaze at the insinuation. He hadn’t, in fact, told anyone about this guy, or the truth about what happened in that alley. When reporting back, he lied and said the man ran off before he could do anything. The lack of response gives Namjoon a further boost of hope. “As far as anyone can see, you’re just talking to a guy.” Jungkook looks around cautiously. “We can talk in my car?” Namjoon proposes.

“No.” Jungkook’s brows knit together in disgust at the friendliness in his tone. He mounts his bike and slips a helmet on. “Look, Jungkook⎼” “How the fuck do you know my name?” Jungkook pauses before kicking his bike stand up. “Who are you, really? What do you want?” Namjoon sighs. “I know a lot. I know the little blond guy who’s always schmoozing with the VIPs at the clubs is your partner. I know where you go to school, I know your friends. I know you stay at a greek house with⎼” “Enough.” Jungkook’s eyes pierce through Namjoon’s, his mind calculating the chances of this man pulling him into a trap. "Fine.” Jungkook decides, kicking the bike stand and his engine roars to life. “There’s a gym I go to just a little out of the district. Meet me there at midnight in two days.” Namjoon’s smile showcases his dimples, and he steps aside to give Jungkook way. 

⎼

Jungkook exits the gym five minutes after midnight, scanning the area outside to find Namjoon waiting by his car. Heavy steps take him there, scowling at the smile on the man’s face. “Alright, what do you want?” Namjoon chuckles, “Slow down, kid.” “Don’t call me that.” “Fine,” he extends his hand, “I’m⎼” “I don’t really care.” Jungkook cuts him off. “Just tell me what this is about.” Taking a breath, Namjoon goes over his proposal in his head. Knowing Jungkook’s position in Kim’s hierarchy, as one of those at the top at such a young age, he knows it won’t be easy trying to convince him. “You were right about me.” He says, “I’m not looking to buy.” Jungkook shuffles a tiny step back, straightening up, arms folding over his chest. “Thought so. Let me guess, they’re launching another investigation on Kim.” Namjoon nods, but the smile on his face just moments ago no longer there. “You’re a detective aren’t you? You’ve done your research. I’m sure you know people have tried. Time and again Kim has gotten away. What makes you think this time will be different?”

⎼

A movie plays softly in the background while Jungkook retells the story. As he talks, your interest grows, now sat up and facing him with your back to the television and the covers wrapped around your body. He laughs at you. “Look at you,” he taps your nose. “What happened next!” You whine, begging him to go on. Jungkook leans back against the couch and sighs. “I thought about it for a long while. Of course, I was mad about Hoseok but I was actually considering the offer, which was crazy. I thought about what it would mean to not be part of Kim’s gang, to not do things I used to do. But I just couldn’t see myself beyond any of that. It was just who I was. So why would I help him destroy the only place I ever belonged to?” There was sadness etched over his face and the tone of his voice. Stories of his past come back to you and you recall why Kim and everyone in that gang were so important to him. They were his entire life. “What changed?” You ask, fully invested in his story. “You.” Jungkook smiles fondly. “I met you.” “Me?” “I’d already turned Namjoon down by the time we first met,” he explains, looking a little shy, “but after we started seeing each other…I started seriously falling for you, and I thought maybe, maybe I could live a normal life. Like everyone else. I wanted that life. With you.” “Jungkook…” “So I called Namjoon and told him I’d take him up on his offer.” He says. “I’d get him info and in return they’d work out some form of immunity. I missed days of work because I was having meetings with him here, giving him a rundown of how things worked. Suga was livid ‘cause he thought I blew him off to hang out with you.” “You were having your meetings here? Oh⎼ so that’s⎼ oh.” It finally makes sense. The address he’d written down in his notebook wasn’t work-related, it was Namjoon’s address all along. Jungkook tilts his head. “What?” “Nevermind, please continue.” You say and he shakes his head. “No no no, I’m not letting you off. Tell me, what were you saying?” He tugs on the blanket, threatening to expose you to the cool air. “I just⎼ it’s kind of embarrassing.” Jungkook raises his brow, and you know he won’t let this go till you tell him. “You know how you didn’t like talking about work when we first started dating? But I got really curious and everyone kept hinting at it. So I kinda snooped around and looked through a little notebook you had in your room. And I came across an address…this address. I thought it would lead me to where you worked and what you were keeping from me.” His brows crease together, “You looked through my stuff?” “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have.” Your bottom lip juts out and he pretends to be mad, trying his best to hold back a smile because you look too cute. “You are so…nosey.” He laughs when you simply raise your eyebrows. “You’re not mad at me?” “I guess I would’ve been back then. But now, it doesn’t really matter, does it?” “Guess not,” you say, looking down, “all this while…you were just meeting up with Namjoon.”

He nods, “Yeah. Once his team had a solid plan, it was initiated. I didn’t even know what most of it consisted of. He said it needed to be as natural as possible, so it wasn’t until he was assigned to our team that I saw him again. I didn’t even know he’d take up a job at school.” “Is that why you were so against me being friends with him at the start?” You ask. “Sort of.” Jungkook remembers the exact day he’d seen you talking to Namjoon. “I wanted to keep you away from all of this." “I thought it was because you hated him and you were jealous.” “Oh I did hate him.” He says casually. “What? Just because I agreed to work with him doesn’t mean I need to like him. And please, you would never date a fart like him.” You hit him with a look and he shrugs, reaching out to unroll the sheets you’ve made yourself comfortable in. He grabs you by the thigh and pulls you closer. Then drops his head on your lap and closes his eyes. “So yeah, that’s about it basically.” He mumbles. When your fingers rake through his hair, he hums an exhale. Almost melting into the bed if he could, his body visibly relaxes with your touch. “You haven’t been sleeping well, huh?” His cheek rubs against you when he nods, and goosebumps appear on his skin as you trace your nails on his scalp. You focus on the movie while Jungkook remains in your lap, staying that way for a while. You expected him to doze off like he usually does. But his eyes glazed over, staring into the distance. The smile he had earlier is gone. “What’s on your mind?” Your tender voice soothes him out of his daze. “Just thinking…” his voice is hoarse, “that it’s finally over.” He’s still trying to come to terms with what’s happened, and you can’t imagine what the last month or so has been for him, having to watch his entire world crumble. It’s a complicated web of emotions that he’s trying to untangle. On one hand, he’s free, but on the other, what did it take for him to get here? Even while he spoke earlier, you sensed confliction. “How are you feeling?” You ask, treading carefully. “When you were talking about Kim earlier, I saw that look on your face. And now that he’s…” You swear you see his face muscles twitch at the question, and perhaps his eyes get a little glossier than before. But he blinks the urge to cry away, and knits his brows together. “I don’t want to talk about that.” “Okay,” you trace a finger over his features again, forcing them to relax. You wipe away the tiny puddle formed in the corner of his eyes. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. You can tell me anything, remember?” Opening his eyes, he’s greeted by your own, and he sits up to face you. “Right now, I just want to be with you.”

Warmth spreads to your cheeks. Maybe it’s the weeks of separation that’s got you blushing at his words but the way he’s staring does you no favours. Your breath hitches when he gets close, face inches away and breath hot against your face. He’s greeted with a satisfied hum from you when your lips touch. Fingers cup your jaw to hold you steady. Somehow your hands find their way to his body now that he’s leaning, practically hovering, over you. He all but devours your mouth, tongue fighting for dominance and a soft whimper leaves you when his teeth grazes your bottom lip.

Pulling away, your half-lidded eyes reflect your desire. And it all but fuels his own. Skin burning under your touch, you revel in the way his breath gets caught as your hands slide down his abs, fingers dangerously dancing by the hem of his pants. He’s quick to react, pulling you into his lap so that you’re straddling him, arms resting over his shoulders while his hands roam over your thighs. Jungkook’s body relaxes with a sigh, pulling you taut against him, face buried between your clothed chest. Your head rests against his, and he feels your heart thumping against your body. “Y/N,” his words come out as a whisper, “I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you that night.” His grip only tightens when you try to look at him. “I know, baby. I feel the same way.” You kiss the side of his head. “You’re everything to me.” He says, this time looking up at you. “I’d die if I ever lose you.” “I’m not going anywhere.” You say, lips ghosting over his. “I’m all yours.” Your lips find each other again, and the kiss burns with his ache for you. It’s a feeling he’s still getting used to, one he’s only ever experienced with you. He never thought he had the capacity to love someone this much. Your hips move against him ever so gently, yet it gets you a delicious hum of approval. Abandoning your mouth, he plants soft kisses on your neck, focusing his attention on that sweet spot that has you sighing. The growing tent in his pants starts to bother him and he shifts uncomfortably, only to buck into your instead. You palm his hardness and he breaks contact, letting out a groan and throwing his head back. His growing impatience stops the attention you’re giving him and switches up your positions, leaving you on your back against the cool blankets and him kneeling between your legs. The shirt you’re wearing hovers dangerously just below your hips, but with your legs spread, he gets a good view of your sex, mouth salivating. Jungkook peppers kisses along your inner thigh. Your insides throb with anticipation when you feel his hot breath on your cunt, teasing you with the softness of his lips, till you feel his tongue brushing against your clit teasingly. You grip the sheets at the contact, already feeling the adrenaline rush. Jungkook thinks you’re cute, he’s barely done anything and you’re already holding on for your life. He gets back on his knees, much to your disappointment. This time, he lifts your shirt up and you arch your back to help him, leaving it just above your chest. “You’re so fucking pretty.” He mutters, eyes staring down your naked form. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, feeling the heat rush to your face. It occurs to you how long it’s been since the last time you were together, for you to be embarrassed in front of him. Deprived of his touch in months, that even a simple compliment has you blushing. Rough hands roam your body, starting from your thighs, all the way up to your breasts. Soon his lips join them, leaving the softest kisses all over. You sigh as he captures your right nipple in his mouth, thighs closing on him in response. You can feel the upturn of his lips, smirking his way across to your left. The jerk your body does as his tongue grazes the tip of your nipple has his hands sinking into your flesh. His right hand slides down your body, finding its way to your growing wetness. He plays with your folds and teasingly around your entrance. You spread your legs wider, gripping onto his arm as he easily slips in two fingers. You’re embarrassed of the sounds you’re making, but it’s music to his ears. His fingers move at a good pace, but it’s not enough. “More please⎼ “

“More?” He asks against your skin. You nod. He obliges, letting in two more fingers as he studies your face, eyes falling shut, trying to reach your high. Your hands grip roughly around his arm. “F-faster⎼” He has half a mind to stop, just to tease you a little. But you look too good when you’re chasing your high. So pretty and whiny. Mesmerised by the way your mouth drops open, he quickens the pace, feeling the burn on his arm. Your voice gets caught in your throat when he curves his fingers to hit that spot, and Jungkook feels the warmth coating his fingers as you reach your high, continuing to milk every last drop out of you. You take a while to recover, reeling from the first orgasm in months. Part of you embarrassed it took so little to get you there. When you finally get your sanity back, you open your eyes to Jungkook watching you as he sucks your fluid off his fingers. He momentarily gets off the couch and slips his pants off. You reach out to him, wanting to feel him close to you. He climbs over, letting his weight rest on you. “Feel good?” You nod, “But I want you.” Something dark flickers in his eyes as he gazes into yours. His cock twitches between your bodies and you start to throb again. “Where do you want me?” “I want you inside me,” your hands slip around his cock and he lifts his hips up to make room, “I want you to fuck me.” He makes a slow exhale. Your hand rubs over his tip as the words slip out of your mouth. His eyes shut as he grinds into your hand. Then he pushes himself off, and positions himself between your legs. “Fuck,” he mutters, eyes roaming over you, chest heaving at the sight, “all mine.” It makes your heart skip, and cunt throb with anticipation. His cock rubs against your folds, coating him with your wetness, before aligning with your entrance, carefully watching your face as he lets himself in. A gasp leaves you and your back arches slightly. He goes tauntingly slow just to savour the look you have. “Jungkook,” you mutter his name in a whisper as he fits all of him inside you. He can barely control himself right then, hips bucking against you. He goes slow, allowing you to get used to him before increasing the pace. Your gasps turn to soft mewls, and he keeps a steady pace only to keep hearing the sweet sounds you’re making. 

Jungkook looks divine, even with the scars on his body. Your eyes drop to the one on his thigh, the one he’d gotten the night you were kidnapped. Then to his lower abdomen where Hongjun had shot him. He’d taken a bullet for you, not once but twice. He decided to change his life because he wanted to have one with you.

You love him. You love him. You love him. The change in your demeanour doesn’t go unnoticed . Jungkook slows down, studying you carefully. He meets you face to face, pressing his body gently against yours, slowly pumping himself into you. His arms cage you in on both sides of your head and your legs wrap around him. A gasp escapes you as he rolls his hips into you. “Is this okay?” He asks. When you don’t respond, he breaks his rhythm, worried that he may be pushing you too hard. After all, you’re still recovering. The consideration he shows you further intensifies the feeling bubbling inside of you. “I love you.” The whisper of your words surprises him, and with his body against yours, you feel the rise of his heart rate. If possible, it’s as if the burning in his chest is seeping into yours. He kisses you, warm and gentle against your lips. “I love you too.” Jungkook gets back his rhythm, driven by the pool of emotions in his chest. Your words echo in his mind and a tight knot forms inside him, filled to the brim with his feelings for you. With eyes piercing into yours, it’s impossible to look away. He wants to fuck you senseless, but already he’s feeling the heat in his core. It’s the way your body moves in sync with his. Each thrust meets with the gentle rise of your hips, allowing him to fill you up. He pauses for a beat each time, savouring the warmth of your walls around his cock. And with the lustful way you’re looking at him, he could come undone anytime. Only you could have this effect on him. Jungkook maintains control, grunting each time he looks down to where you become one, pleased at how well you take him. Your hand guides him back to you. Jungkook loses his breath when you force him to meet your gaze. You’re so beautiful. For a moment he falters, thrusts becoming sloppy, and you wrap your arms around him to have him close. He swallows up your moans, your tongue losing in a battle of dominance as he devours you. Your nails dig into the flesh of his back, when you feel that familiar knot in your core. Jungkook keeps his pace steady, hitting that sweet spot over and over again, addicted to the way you write under him, arching your back in anticipation. “I’m gonna cum⎼” you whisper, eyes closed. “Yeah? Cum for me baby,” Jungkook says, against your lips, giving you gentle kisses. His voice reverberates against your neck as he speaks. You open your eyes again, and they’re met with his awe-struck gaze. “Want you⎼ cum with me⎼” You feel it coming, the pressure inside you on the brink of explosion. Your hips buck up to meet his as he continues to slam into you, his hot breath against your ear. Getting sloppy himself, moans leave Jungkook’s mouth as he goes. He wipes the hair out of your face, grabbing your attention so your eyes can meet again. Your gazes lock on to each other and neither can tear away. He wants this moment to last forever. Intertwined with you, making love to you. Jungkook feels himself reaching his high, but something else creeps up his chest, and waters his eyes. “I’m⎼c⎼” 

You lose all senses as the pressure in your core snaps, and your legs tremble against him, fingers scraping his back. Jungkook’s thrusts get sloppy, but he carries on, determined to let you ride out your orgasm. Jungkook curses at the lewd expression on your face and the moans you gift him with. Your walls squeeze around his cock and his own resolve breaks as he cums inside you with a heavy load, moaning right in your ear. His weight rests completely on top of you as he buries his face next to yours, and you let him milk every last drop inside of you. You rub his back soothingly, kissing the side of his head. When he can finally bring himself to face you, you’re greeted with his glossy eyes. “I love you so much.”

⎼

It’s the middle of the night when you roll over, throwing your arm to the other side of the couch bed. But you don’t find what you’re reaching for, Jungkook’s side now empty. The digital clock on the console reads 3am. You usually stir from your sleep at this time anyway. His voice comes from the other side of the room, behind the couch where the dining table is. Jungkook’s talking to someone. But at this time? Sleep still masking your attention, you only manage to pick out a couple of words he’s whispering. “No, I don’t know how to tell her…” Tell you what? It sobers you slightly and you feel a pang to your chest, with a familiar anxiety building inside of you. You sit up on the edge of the bed and  the movement gets Jungkook’s attention. He ends the call right then, and you walk over, tripping over your own feet in the dark. Rubbing your eyes, you reach out to him and he pulls you in. You find the space between his legs and sit on his lap, leaning your body against his. “Baby, why are you up?” He asks quietly. “I couldn’t find you.” You say sleepily and he resists the urge to squish your face. “Why are you up?” “I can’t sleep.” He says, slipping his arm under your knees and lifting you back to where you came from. He climbs over you and to the other side, pulling the covers over both of you. You look at his face, illuminated by the lights from the window. The redness in his eyes, bags under them. “You look so tired.” “I am.” He admits, “But I just can’t sleep. It takes a while.” “What do you do when you can’t sleep?” “Think of you,” he says sweetly, running his thumb over your cheek, “all of you.” “Shut up.” You giggle, getting comfy under the covers. “Something bothering you?” “I just keep getting nightmares from that night.” You let him snuggle comfortably with his head against the crook of your neck, deep breaths taking in your scent. “Tell me.” “The moment I doze off, I’m just back to that night…the chaos…the panic,” he sucks in a breath, “it all comes back to me.” “Did something happen that night? Something you want to talk about?” You can’t understand what’s going on in his mind. A part of him must be relieved to know that the entire operation was a success despite the lives lost. But something tells you there’s something else that’s bothering him. Jungkook shakes his head. “No. Nevermind.” “Jungkook,” you sigh, “maybe talking about it will help.” He presses himself deeper into you if that’s even possible. It’s obvious now that there’s more he needs to unpack before he’ll feel okay. “Whatever it is, we’ll go through it together.” You say. The arm around your body gets heavier and his breaths get even. You continue to rub a soothing hand down his back. “I’ll always be here for you.”

⎼

Namjoon sits at the table with Jungkook, in discussion over something important. So important that you aren’t allowed to be part of it. In the last two days you’ve been here, Jungkook would go over to Namjoon’s apartment to have these talks, but today, he’s decided to have it here instead. You occasionally sneak peeks from Jungkook’s room, looking through a gap in the door. Jungkook picks up the movement from his peripheral and sends you a wink. You smile, then close the door again. One last look in the mirror, and you’re slinging your bag over your shoulder, carefully opening the door so as to not interrupt them, but also making your presence known. The talking stops once you’re within hearing range. “I’ll be back.” You go up to Jungkook and give him a kiss. “Bye Namjoon.” “The car’s waiting for you downstairs.” He says, nodding, then points his pen at you. “And remember, not a word.” “Got it.” You pretend you zip your lips. Having to keep this on the low unfortunately means you’ve got to keep lying to everyone. When you arrive at the apartment, Hana rushes out of her room with a huge smile on her face. “Hey.” She says apprehensively. You almost forget you’d left things a little weird that day. “Hi.” You hug her first, and she sighs in relief, hugging you back. “Everything okay?” “I should be asking you that.” “I’m good.” You nod, and she relaxes, relieved to see you in good spirits. “I needed the space. I feel better now.” “Okay,” she holds your hand, “sorry about the other day. I was insensitive.” “No no, it’s alright. I mean,” you scoff, “I wasn’t in the right state of mind anyway.” “I know but⎼” “Don’t worry about it.” You assure her firmly, wanting to move on from the subject. The flowers Jungkook got you were starting to wilt, looking lonely and sad on your table, so you gave it a water change. After which you start packing a load of clothes, enough to last you a week, into a duffel bag. Wafting through the apartment, the smell of good homemade cooking distracts you, and you leave the packing aside to hop outside. “What’s this?” You ask, smirking as you walk to the kitchen where Hana has made herself busy. “I’m making your favourites; chicken soup and butter prawns!” Her voice goes up an octave, proudly showing off her cooking. She’d always been the better cook anyway, so you don’t doubt its taste. In fact, you’re salivating just thinking about the gorgeous prawns she made last time, and the chicken soup she’s working on now bubbling on the stove, with the rice cooker steaming on the counter behind her. Her face drops when you don’t react the way she expected you to. You don’t even realise you’d been standing there with a blank look. “What’s wrong?” You force a smile. “It sounds amazing Hana. You know I love your cooking.” “But?” But you weren’t exactly planning on staying till dinner. You were so focused on getting back to Jungkook that you’d completely forgotten to tell her that. “I just thought…I’d go back⎼” “Go back?” “To Namjoon’s apartment?” You say carefully. “It’s just that he has an empty place and I think being on my own is actually good for me right now so…” “Oh.” You can almost hear the sound of her heart breaking. The more you speak, the worse her expression gets and you hate yourself for it. Jungkook can wait. You’ll see him again tonight anyways. “But you know what, I can stay for dinner. Not like I have anything else to do.” You chuckle.

Hana perks up just a little. “I didn’t realise you were going back. And so soon.” “Well yeah I just⎼ it’s a nice place and⎼ it’s just good for me⎼ like maybe right now I need⎼” Curses float through your mind as you struggle to find the right excuse without hurting her. But now she’s looking at you confused by your stammering. She knows you too well to know you’re hiding something. “Fuck it.” You groan, running your hand over your face. “Jungkook’s alive. He’s at Namjoon’s place. I’ve been with him for the last few days.” It was certainly not what Hana was expecting, mouth parting in surprise, struggling to process what you just said. 

⎼

“Are you sure?” Namjoon’s eyes pierce Jungkook’s. “You have no idea where Suga is?” “I’m telling you the truth. That night was the last time I saw him. I don’t know where he is now.” It hurts Jungkook to think about it. That the last night he’d seen Suga was the same night he’d betrayed Kim in that alley. Namjoon observes Jungkook for a minute. In his experience, there’s always a chance of a cover up. They’d been going through the names of those arrested, Jungkook helping Namjoon pair their real names with their aliases and identifying those who managed to escape and their threat level. Suga being one of them. “Fine. I believe you.” So he says. “But if we do find him, he is going to prison.” “I know that.” “And if we find out that you’ve been in contact with him, then your immunity is revoked.” Jungkook nods curtly. Turning back to his notes, Namjoon goes over a couple more things before their meeting is done. He piles the papers into a stack and slots them into a confidential file. He glances at the younger man, now zoned out, staring at the centrepiece of the table. “It’s almost confirmed. You have to tell her soon.” “I know, I just can’t find it in me.” Jungkook leans back. “I’ve been agonising over the last two days. How can I burst her bubble like that? She’s gone through so much, and finally we get to be together again. How do I…” Jungkook trails off, as if speaking about it would make reality come quicker. “How do I break it to her that I’m gonna be sent away?” 

⎼

You proudly show off your old phone to Hana. “See? I got it back.” “That’s great.” She smiles, still trying to process the sudden flood of information. You’ve spent the last half an hour breaking your promise to Namjoon. But that doesn’t matter, you’ll deal with him when the time comes. Or maybe he just doesn’t have to know. “But I’m still…are you sure that person is really Jungkook? Not an imposter? Is this all a dream? Am I part of your dream?” Hana yelps when you pinch the flesh of her arm. “Does that hurt?” “Yes?!” “So this isn’t a dream.” Hana looks at you unbelievably. “Okay, you’re back to normal. So this is all real.” “It took me a while too.” You say, sporting a silly smile that she hasn’t seen in a while. “But it’s real. He’s alive. And safe. He’s just been laying low at Namjoon’s place the whole time.” “And all along he’s been…” “Namjoon’s informant.” “That’s crazy.” Hana laughs. “That’s the craziest thing yet. I mean, besides you getting held hostage of course.” “I know.” You stop chewing and cross your arms on the table. “Now, I’m not supposed to tell you any of this so please.” “I won’t tell anyone.” She nods. “Not even Hoseok.” “I promise.” Hana holds out her pinky and you hook yours around it. She looks more relieved to have you back than anything else. “I’m glad he’s safe. I know you’ve been worried sick the last couple of weeks. I love that I can finally see you smile like this again.” A pang of guilt hits you hard. Hana had been with you throughout your recovery and it hasn’t been easy for her, but she tried her best. That was never in doubt. On the other hand, you were less than pleasant to deal with. Even if you weren’t yourself, she didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of your outbursts. “Hana, I’ve been awful to you. I’m so sorry.” You reach over to grab her hand. “I couldn’t control myself. I felt like everyone was too careful around me…but at the same time I hated it when you guys were honest with me.” “I get it,” she exhales. “You were just trying to stay optimistic but we kept shutting you down. I think anyone would’ve been annoyed.”  “Still, I shouldn’t have lashed out like that.” “I felt so bad after.” Hana admits. “I thought you didn’t want to come back because you were still mad at me.” “I was kinda upset but,” you shake your head, “I would never just leave you, Hana. You’re my best friend.” She smiles. “You were right in the end though. About Jungkook.” “I told you so.” Laughter fills the room, washing away any tension that has plagued the house in the last month.

⎼

The cool night air bites at your skin. Jungkook swims laps in the pool, while you sit on the edge, splashing your feet in the water. Past midnight, no one else comes up here, leaving you with the perfect space to get some fresh air. Jungkook appears between your legs, brushing his hair back and wiping the water off his face. He shows off his charming smile when you raise your brows. “You just brought me here to seduce me.” “It’s working though, right?” He chuckles. Jungkook carries you into the warm water, and you let your legs hook around him. With his arm firmly around your waist, you lean back, gazing up at the night sky. “I can’t believe rich people have rooftop pools. This is amazing.” “Wait till you see the sauna.” You gasp dramatically and his nose scrunches up. He floats about with you in his arms and your head rested on his shoulder. A sigh of content leaves your lips. “I’m so happy.” His arms seem to tighten around you just then, and after a while he moves towards the steps where the both of you rest with half your bodies in the water. Expression unreadable, he watches you fix your hair and scoots closer when you smile at him. His hand comes up to your thigh and it seems as though he’s building to say something. “What?” You ask, tilting your head to look at him when he looks away. Jungkook shakes his head. “I um…” Seconds go by as he contemplates, then finally faces you again. “Let’s get out of here.” “Oh okay,” you shrug, “we can watch that new netflix release⎼” “No,” Jungkook’s eyes go wide just like it used to when he’s up to something, “not back to the apartment. Out of here, like, out of here.” “You wanna leave? Are you allowed to do that?” “We can go watch a movie at the theatre.” “You’re definitely not allowed to do that.” “Come on!” Jungkook gets out first, water gushing down as he does, and extends his hand out to you. Staring up at him, the consequences line up in your head. There are limitations he has to abide by, and he’d already been caught once. His eyes shine with a glimmer of hope, wiggling his fingers in encouragement. His smile only gets bigger when you grab his hand and trail along after him. A man appeared at the front door upon Jungkook’s call; his handler, apparently. This is the first time you’re meeting the man who’s been assigned to make sure Jungkook’s well taken care of. And that includes ensuring he doesn’t leave the premises unless…

“That’s not an emergency.” He says. From the looks of it, he’s young. Possibly younger or even the same age as you are. He dresses casually, coming up from the floor just below. “No.” You hear him say immediately after Jungkook opens his mouth. Jungkook pulls him inside. “Please. Just this once.” He maintains his resolve but his hands ball up into fists by his side. Standing just a little shorter than Jungkook, it’s comical to see him frowning up at him as if Jungkook’s the one in charge. “Just this once? Are you forgetting what you did last time?” You assume he’s referring to the time Jungkook broke the agreement just to see you. “And I could’ve just left without a word again this time, but here I am, informing you, like a nice person.” “Please.” The young man scoffs and folds his arms. “It’s because my boss changed the security settings, and your biometrics don’t work anymore. That’s why you need me.” “Well yeah, basically.” “Eugh,” he balls his fist up again, “you are so annoying. Why can’t you just stay here like you were ordered to and not get me into any more trouble?” You go over to Jungkook’s side, hugging his arm. “He’s right. Let’s just stay in.” The boy’s eyes slide over to you for a second. But Jungkook doesn’t agree, speaking softly over his shoulder. “No, we’ve been here for ages.” “But I don’t want him to get in trouble. Or you.” Jungkook loses tension as you speak. You’re always so considerate. “But⎼” “Sorry to disturb you so late. We’ll stay in.” You cut him off and the look on his handler’s face softens, though still guarded. Jungkook pulls you aside, speaking in a whisper. “I thought you wanted to get out of here? And watch a movie?” “Not if we have to force our way out.” You reason. “We’ll be able to do all of that after you’re done here. We don’t have to rush things, we have so much time.” The corners of Jungkook’s lips twitch, holding back frustration. “It’s fine.” You say, getting him to look at you again. Behind him, the man clears his throat to get your attention. “I uh⎼ there is one way I can let you go.” He shares a sympathetic smile when you make eye contact, though he stares down Jungkook’s back right after. “I can go with you. I’ll have to drive you to where you wanna go. And I’ll stay with you throughout. When you’re done, I’ll drive us back. That way I have eyes on you at all times.” You look at Jungkook, raising your brows. He’s clear considering the idea, though he doesn’t want to show how moved he is that this young man is actually trying to help him out. 

⎼

“Here.” Jungkook holds the ice-cream an inch away from your face. Each time you lean forward, he pulls it back, till you move too quickly and eventually have ice-cream on your nose. He giggles, wiping the dessert off your face when you glare at him. In his peripheral he catches sight of an unwanted presence nearby, and his attention separates from you momentarily. “Stop.” You shove him lightly. “Look at him, lurking.” “It’s his job.” You remind him and he rolls his eyes. “You should be grateful. He could’ve just ignored us and went back to bed but he wanted to⎼” “Okay.” Jungkook’s lower lip juts out. He continues eating his ice cream while sulking. Jaemin ⎼ you found out his name ⎼ had helped you out of the building and drove you to a nearby drive-through for ice-cream. Though you felt weird about it, Jungkook asked if there was a secluded place he could drive to. And now you’re at a peaceful picnic spot atop a hill, overlooking the entire city with no one else in sight. “You have to admit, it’s a great view.” Jungkook rolls his eyes once more and you tug on his ear. “Ow⎼ yes okay⎼ yes!” He rubs his ear when you let go, “Stop being a baby.” Jungkook glances at Jaemin, then leans in. “I have an idea. If we start having sex right now, I bet he’ll⎼” His laughter fills the night when you shove him once again, keeping himself steady with his other hand. You rest against him, hooking your arm under his and closing the gap between you. Your eyes settle on a tall building in the distance, a string of bright lights shining along the edges. It overshadows Namjoon’s apartment out of sight just behind it. “That’s a pretty one.” “That one’s prettier.” He points to a lavish mansion sitting elegantly atop one of the adjacent hills. “Okay fancy pants. A month at Namjoon’s apartment and you’re already acting like a spoiled rich kid.” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “I’m just saying, I’ve been saving up all these years. Better be nice to me or you’re not invited.” You scoff. “Oh you’re too good for me now huh?” You pinch his side and he flinches, dropping whatever’s left of his cone, watching as it rolls down into the darkness. He glares at you and you press your finger to your lips to hide a smile before breaking out into laughter, Jungkook joining you. “Sorry.” You say between giggles. 

He dusts his hands off before putting his arm around you. “You’re definitely not invited.” Your cheeks burn from smiling too wide, a feeling you’ve missed. Comfortably resting on him, your hands find warmth under his jacket. “Can’t wait for you to be free. Where are you gonna stay?” Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat. “I don’t know yet.” “You haven’t thought about it?” You ask mindlessly, playing with his fingers. “What’s the point of having a girlfriend if I can’t crash at her place?” It makes you giggle and he kisses the top of your head. “You’re welcome anytime. But on a serious note, it might not be cool if you stay with us long term.” “Kicking me out already…” You punch him in the chest and he jokingly whines about how violent you’re getting. An idea brews in your mind and you chew on your bottom lip. “Maybe…we could get a place together?” Maybe you were just imagining it, but you felt him stiffen up. Looking up, you see him staring at the view with a complex look, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “Mm.” The indifference in his reply stings. It was a suggestion you thought he’d be on board with when you’ve basically been living together the last few days. “You can say no if you don’t want to.” “It’s not that,” he sighs, “there’s a lot of things that…” “What?” The next few seconds of silence stretches out into what feels like forever. Leaving you with the same nervousness bubbling inside the pit of your stomach you used to feel; he’s keeping something from you. Jungkook’s internal frenzy is cut short ⎼ and saved ⎼ by Jaemin, who calls out to the both of you. “Let’s head back. We’ve been out long enough.” Your bodies slip away from each other and Jungkook nods at him before turning to you, looking up at him with a vague expression on your face. He smiles to ease the tension and leans forward, lips pacifying your worries for a moment. “Let’s talk about this next time, okay?” He whispers. You push the negative thoughts far back, not wanting to ruin the night.

⎼

Over the next two days, Jungkook had been adamant about getting his way with Jaemin. Even when you insist on staying home, he shakes his head, bothering the poor handler every few hours about the next time he can leave the apartment. You sit by the kitchen island, staring at the glorious view of his back while he cooks a nice meal for the two of you. The only thing that had stopped him from bothering Jaemin was putting your foot down and threatening to leave. Reluctantly, he finally left the boy alone. Jungkook places a steak on your plate, lips slightly jutted as he continues sulking. “Thank you baby.” He sighs, placing the pan back on the stove and getting his own plate. “We could’ve had steak at a proper restaurant.” He mutters, taking the seat across. “But I like your cooking better.” The corners of his lips twitch a little. His cooking has always been good, so you don’t expect anything less. You hum at every bite, placing your hand to your chest with gratitude, and he watches you fondly, smiling wider at every little expression you make. That night, he tucks some stray hair behind your ear while you’re asleep. The covers are pulled all the way up to keep you from the cold. His fingers graze over the skin of your cheek and you stir, smacking your lips together, then breaking into a light snore. The front door plays a jingle as it unlocks. He turns his head in the direction of the hallway which reflects a soft glow from outside. He’s careful not to wake you as he slides off the bed and shuts the door safely and silently. In the dark, he trots over to the long dining table where Namjoon sets his coat over one of the chairs, undoing his tie. “What’s up? Why do you look like that?” He asks when he turns to a dishevelled Jungkook. “I haven’t told her.” Jungkook stands in front of the window, right next to Namjoon, who’s looking at him from the side. “You’re gonna have to soon. I just submitted the paperwork.” “It’s not that easy.” Jungkook says softly. “You want me to do it?” Jungkook had considered it. Maybe hearing it from Namjoon would make it seem more necessary, and that would hurt less. But that would be cowardly of him. “No. I think that might be worse.” “Just lay out the facts.” Namjoon says. “And tell her now before it’s too late. At least she’ll get time to process everything.” “I know. I’ll tell her tomorrow.” “Alright.” Namjoon slaps him on the shoulder. “Let’s go over the details.”

⎼

“What⎼ how?!” “I’m sorry!” Jungkook whines, and you snatch the knitting from his hands. The tangled yarn sticks to the needle, with the remaining yarn unravelled all over the floor. “I’ve never done this before!” “But how did it get to this?” Jungkook drops himself on the couch, “You said this would be relaxing.” “Yeah if you do it right.” You mutter as you try to free the needle. “This is literally impossible. You weren’t listening to my instructions were you?” “No, every time you talk all I hear is the melodious sound of your voice luring me into your world.” Your palm lands harshly on his thigh and a high-pitched yelp escapes him. The amusement on your end fades away when instead of retaliating, Jungkook folds over, clutching his thigh while letting out a guttural groan. Panic sets in when you realise where your palm had landed ⎼ right on his wound. Your hands slap over your mouth with a gasp, dropping the tangled web of yarn to the floor. “I’m so sorry!” You continue to watch with horror as he buries his head into his leg. The amount of guilt you feel is indescribable, you couldn’t imagine how much it hurt. But the guilt slowly dissipates when seconds later, he breaks character, raising his head and ending the dramatics with his bunny teeth making an appearance. “Just kidding.” For a moment he regrets his decision, the dead stare you’re giving him making his stomach drop. “You. Asshole.” Picking up a cushion, he shields himself from your attacks, and you hear his laughter coming from the other side of the cushion. You manage to pry it away and his eyes widen though his grin remains, and he blocks your next attempt, grabbing your wrists in time. Leaning in, your face hangs just inches away from his bunny smile. “You’re surprisingly strong.” He comments. “I’m angry.” “Cute and angry.” You growl for effect and he chuckles. Though he’s holding on tight, you’re no match for him. He easily lowers your wrists and pulls you in closer, but you resist. “Listen,” he laughs, “I have something to tell you.” At first you think he could just be messing with you to get you to stop, but playfulness switches into a genuine smile as he speaks. Your body relaxes out of interest and you fall back to the couch, letting your legs drape over his. He laughs at the speed of your transition, now looking at him with curious eyes. “I spoke to Namjoon,” he starts and you nod, “he says we can tell the others now. So if you want to, we’ll have them over for dinner or something.” “Oh my god, yes!” You burst to your knees, arms folding around his neck. “Let’s do it! When?” “Whenever you like.”

“Okay, we need to prepare though. Should we surprise them?” You muse over the thought. “Your choice.” Jungkook shrugs, picking up the knitting materials off the floor and throwing them into its original box. “Oh come on,” you grab his hands, palm to his cheek, “they’re your friends too. They’ve been worried about you. And I know you’ve missed them.” Jungkook smiles, “Yeah, I guess I have.” “They’ll be ecstatic!” You clap your hands. “So how do you wanna do it?” “Honestly…I think I’d just like a nice dinner with everyone.” His eyes glaze over. “I feel like we’ve never done that before. We’re always doing our own things. Either that or, we’re fighting. Dinner would be good.” “Aw.” You press your lips to his cheek. “That’s so sweet Jungkook.” “Also, I can’t wait to kick Hoseok off his high horse.” “And there it is.” You roll your eyes and shove him. “Well what about you?” He scoffs, “Didn’t you say no one believed you a week ago, and that you can’t wait to rub it in their faces.” You smile sheepishly. “Fine, so we’ll both rub it in everyone’s faces.” “Sounds good.” Jungkook leans in till his lips find yours. “Let’s go do some grocery shopping.” You tilt your head. “Did you run this by Jaemin?” “Ugh, I hate that you know his name.” Jungkook winces. “No. But I talked Namjoon into giving me some freedom befor⎼” “Before?” You watch him freeze for a moment, then shake it off. “Before I go crazy here.” You nod slowly, a little suspicious over his fumbling of words. But he carries on normally, shoving the box of knitting materials aside so he can go get ready, motioning for you to do the same. 

⎼

Covered in black from head to toe with a hat pulled all the way down, covering his eyes, Jungkook drapes his arm around you as you walk around a lesser known part of the city. Every time you glance at him, or see his reflection on the window of the shops you pass by, you snicker. Only the bottom half of his face is visible, almost like you’re walking with a celebrity. A large supermarket comes into view and you go over the list of things to buy in your head. But as you walk by, his arm stops you from turning into it. Instead, the two of you walk on by. “Wasn’t that the…” “Yeah we can order online and put it on Namjoon’s tab like I always do.” He waves it off. “So then why did you⎼” “So we can go on a proper date. Ours got cut short last time.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone. “Shall we go to a museum? Bookstore?” “I thought you hated museums.” “You love them though?” He asks lifting his chin so he can see you better.  He slows down when he notices you do the same, face twisted with concern. “What if you get in trouble? We’re not supposed to be out and about.” Jungkook sighs. The arm around your shoulders drops down your back and you feel his fingers snaking between yours. “Didn’t I say I got Namjoon to ease up on the restrictions?” If you were being honest, a teeny tiny part of you doesn’t believe him. He tilts his head to meet your gaze and you see the wrinkles forming around his eyes as he smiles. “You can call him and check if you want to.” Then again, Namjoon had given him an access card which allowed him out of the building, one which he passed on to you to keep. Jungkook is sneaky but there’s no way he would’ve gotten a card without Namjoon knowing. “You can stand there all day thinking about it,” Jungkook shrugs, leaving you behind. He turns as he walks and you can only see his smile as he goes, “meanwhile, I’m gonna check out the new historial arts exhibition⎼” He breaks into laughter when you charge at him head on, pressing your head against his side and squeezing his arm against your body, sparkling eyes begging him to take you there. 

 ⎼

“You always choose the worst ones.” Your brows crease together just as you bring the spoon to your mouth. “You’re literally eating cotton candy flavoured ice cream.” Jungkook rolled his eyes and complained when you dragged him to yet another ice-cream place on the way back, but easily gave in when you mentioned getting ice-cream on dates is our thing. He never realised it but it’s true. And he finds it absolutely adorable. A couple of bars stay open down the street and the clinking of glasses, live music, and mindless chatter echo into the night. The faint sounds of their liveliness continue in the distance as you and Jungkook chose a calmer spot further down. “Yours is called Love Potion.” He makes a point. “What the hell is that?” “This is what keeps you wrapped around my finger.” “Oh-ho, is that right?” You both laugh and he moves in to press his lips against yours, tasting the sweet white chocolate mixed with the tart raspberry flavour lining your lips. He hovers close by after. “Mm you’re right, that is good.”  The mischievous glimmer in his eyes heats up your face. You never get tired of this feeling ⎼ of wanting to be with him, even when he’s this close to you. You wonder if this is what having a soulmate feels like. Is he your soulmate? It’s the first time anyone has ever made you question that. And it’s amusing to you how the thought pops up on a random Thursday night, sitting on a random bench by the road. Jungkook’s elbow nudges you gently, “What’s wrong?” Shaking your head, you break into a sheepish smile and feign interest in your ice-cream, swirling the melted parts around in the cup. Jungkook hasn’t seen that smile since the early days of your relationship. “Nothing.” He brings a napkin to your mouth, wiping off residual ice cream. And again, you feel that warmth, wishing he would stop staring already. But at the same time, wanting him to always look at you this way. It’s an hour after the time Jungkook had promised Jaemin to be back. Hand in hand, you walk back to the apartment building, and your smile lights up the night as you go on and on about something he’s only half paying attention to. The longer he looks at you, the heavier his heart gets. The guilt eating away his insides feels like it's about to let everything spew out of him. You’ve been the happiest he’s seen you in forever, and he knows what he’s about to tell you will erase it all away. Your hair dances in the wind and Jungkook watches your back while you look out at the view from a rooftop garden of a nearby subway station, taking yet another detour, and causing an influx of texts from Jaemin who’s tracking his location. Jungkook ignores them. “You really like it up here, huh?” He asks, and you turn with a smile. “It’s nice.” You say, turning back, admiring the pretty infrastructure. “Crazy to think living like this is normal for some people.” “Yeah.” His voice, suddenly appearing much closer, followed by his presence right by your side. Jungkook tries to focus on the lights, how the traffic almost looks like it moves in a rhythm. But his attention drifts back to you. Your chin rests on the back of your palm as you lean against the railing, eyes sparkling as you take it all in. “I’m gonna miss this when we finally get out of this city.” You chuckle, expecting him to join in and make a joke about living here forever under Namjoon’s tab. But it’s quiet on his end. His eyes seem to convey an emotion you don’t think you want to pull the thread on. “You look like you have a lot on your mind.” Jungkook smiles briefly, his light dimming almost as quickly as it appeared. “We have to talk.”

A loaded darkness wraps around his words, and it causes your heart to flip in your chest. It’s an odd feeling you thought you’d forgotten, but with it follows memories of the last year. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” You watch him swallow the lump in his throat. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I couldn’t find the right time.” “Does this have anything to do with your meetings with Namjoon?” Jungkook nods. “It’s about the case.” “Still? I thought it’s all over.” His fingers dance around yours, as if afraid to make contact. “It is. But…” Your eyes float between his, trying to decipher what’s going on. Inside, you’re bracing yourself for bad news; were they wrong about Kim? Hongjun? Were they alive after all? Has someone escaped from custody? Would someone try to kill you again? Mirroring his nervousness, you wrap your hand around his fingers, “Tell me.” “I’m leaving.” He spits those two words out like it pains him, shutting his eyes right after as he reads the confusion on your face. Your mouth parts as you try to filter out the million questions racing through your mind. “You’re leaving?” You shake your head and a nervous chuckle leaves your chest. “What does that mean? Like…you’re leaving me? Or? You’re leaving the city?” Eyes fluttering open, the distress is evident in his eyes now more than ever. He clears his throat. “I’m leaving the country. Till the case is settled.” “What? The case is settled.” You feel the rush of the blood through your veins. “Right? It’s settled. People were arrested, Kim is dead, Hongjun is dead, they’re all gone so, so, so why⎼” He squeezes your hand and you take a breath. “Not everyone was caught, that would be impossible with how big the organisation was. But yes, our biggest threats are gone for good. But it doesn’t mean I’m totally safe. They’re relocating me till the trial, which could take months at minimum, even years⎼” “Years?” Your voice cracks. “What are you saying? You’re gonna be away…for years?” Jungkook’s face twists in pain. Perhaps he had gone about this the wrong way, he should’ve brought it up gradually, gently. It would’ve been too much for anyone to handle. “You’re not serious.” You say, stilling the air around you. “Wait, is this why you’ve been meeting up with Namjoon so much?” Many different emotions course through your body, your mind finding it difficult to pinpoint what exactly you’re feeling. But it’s right there in the pit of your stomach, bubbling its way up to your chest. First it’s distraught, heart breaking into pieces at the thought of him having to leave, but then it morphs into something else entirely. Why had he kept this from you for so long? There were so many chances he had to break it to you. Your breathing gets erratic with anger. “When did you find out?”

“A couple of weeks ago…” His voice is soft, but you can’t tell if it’s because he’s lost his confidence or if it’s your hearing being overshadowed by the thumping of your heart. “And you kept this from me all this while?” You step back, slipping your hand away. “I didn’t know how to break it to you. I didn’t want to hurt you after everything that’s happened.” “And how do you think I feel now?” The words feel like a gigantic slap against his cheek, and Jungkook stands there out of words, feet frozen to his spot. As if watching his entire world crashing down in front of him, he stands there while you inch away, anguish swallowing you whole. “Wait,” he voice comes out hoarse, “please.” “No, I…” You flinch to stop the tears from dropping, and the sight kills him. You hold on to the railing as your world starts to spin. Looking at Jungkook only made it worse. “I need to go.” Despite your vision blurring from the tears, you don’t stop, even when you hear him call out to you. Only with your back turned to him do they wet your cheeks, and you wipe them away hastily, trying to get as far away as possible. The shrubs surrounding the dimly lit pathway feel like they’re closing in on you and you pick up speed, eventually running out of there towards the exit. 

 ⎼

The resentment on your face was something he hadn’t expected. He knew you’d be devastated ⎼ he was prepared for that ⎼ but he hadn’t anticipated that you’d be mad at him. Enough to leave him there to bask in his own guilt. It takes a minute to process before he comes to his senses. The fog clouding his mind clears up, his hearing comes back and his feet finally move. What the fuck am I doing? He blasts himself, questioning why he didn’t start running the moment you turned your back to him. You’re no longer in sight, disappearing in the direction of the exit towards the subway. He runs as fast as he can, bursting through the doors and down the steps. “Y/N!” Only the empty stairwell hears his desperation. Please. Three floors down, he finds the exit to the subway, opening up to a long corridor, an exit to the road on the right and subway on the left. A handful of people walking by stare at him as he runs out the door. He pulls his hat down and sprints towards the station platform. A high-pitched sound comes from the platform as the train pulls in and comes to a stop. Jungkook jumps over the gantry, and scans the area, looking past several others there to catch the last train. He walks down the length of the train, occasionally bumping into alighting passengers. The lights on the doors light up, signalling it’s ready to shut, and Jungkook runs down the platform, zooming past the cabins while his eyes continue to survey inside. The closer he gets to the end, the harder despair sinks into his chest. Slowing down, a jingle plays as the doors finally shut and seconds later the train picks up speed, metal rattling against the tracks as it leaves the station. Jungkook pants, resting his arms on his head as he takes one last look around. No one. He leaves the empty station and stands by the roadside, taking a deep breath to calm his still racing heart. The silence of the night bothers him, a reminder of the fact that you’re gone. He let you go, heartbroken and hurt. And he’s alone again. 

⎼

Sunlight peeks through the curtains, piercing your dull room with its bright orange glow. Outside, the hum of cars driving past and the chatter of kids walking to school can be heard. You barely slept a wink, and the pillow beneath you lies damp with fallen tears. Pushing yourself up, you trot outside to make yourself a cup of tea. The ruckus brings Hana out of her room, face easing into a smile when she sees you. “Oh hey,” she says, “what are you doing here?” Messy hair, crumpled clothing, and the moment your red, tired eyes meet hers, it was evident something’s wrong. Her face falls, and she’s over by your side within seconds. As her hand touches your arm, you break down, finding comfort in her arms. She runs her hand over your head as your tears wet the fabric on her shoulders. “What’s wrong?” “Jungkook…” you mutter between sobs. 

⎼

“What the hell.” Namjoon barges through the door and sees a deflated Jungkook with his head down on the dining table, Jaemin sitting next to him. “What happened?” “Everything’s fine, sir.” Jaemin stands, holding his palm out. “I got a ping alerting me that you almost left the city.” Namjoon directs his frustration to Jungkook who still hasn’t graced him with so much as a look. “We had a deal, Jungkook. You said you wanted some freedom while you still have time here. And I agreed on the condition that you wouldn’t cause a ruckus or try to take off without telling anyone.” No response. Jaemin glances at Jungkook, then turns back to Namjoon. “I’ve checked cctv footage from last night, he wasn’t exposed, nothing putting him at risk of identification.” “We need to get hold of the footage.” Namjoon presses his lips together and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Already put in a request for that.” Jaemin says. “I’ll get to it now.” He grabs his coat and walks up to Namjoon, pausing to whisper, “He’s had a rough night. Go easy on him⎼” “Thank you, agent. You may go.” Once they’re alone, Namjoon pulls up a chair and looks at the miserable boy before him. Dead eyes, red nose, slightly swollen face. “You look terrible.” Jungkook blinks, finally showing signs of life. He lifts his heavy head and rubs his eyes. “I fucked up.” “I take it she didn’t take the news well?” Namjoon asks, knowing the only reason he would end up in this state is if it was anything related to you. “She was…angry.” He says, bewildered. Namjoon tilts his head from side to side, “I would be too if I were her.” “Then she took off, and I stood there like a coward.” He shakes his head. “She couldn’t even look at me…I’m so pathetic.” “Well.” “If you say I told you so I swear to god I’m gonna punch you in the face.” Namjoon presses his lips into a line. Then his features soften, “Give her time. Think about how shocked she must’ve been.” “But I don’t have time.” Jungkook folds his arms and looks off to the side, voice cracking. “In a week, I’ll be gone. This is all I have left with her.” “Do you want me to speak to her?” Jungkook wipes his eyes before turning back to Namjoon. “Do you think that’ll help?” He shrugs. “I could say it was my idea to keep it from her. Protocol or whatever.” “I don’t care what you say, just please bring her back here.” Jungkook says, head dropping to the table once again. Namjoon sighs, “Why didn’t you go after her?” “I did! But she was gone by then.” Jungkook says. “She must’ve got on the train and went back to her place.” “Is that why I got the location warning?” Namjoon checks the notification on his phone, confirming he was at the station. “I’m surprised you didn’t just hop on the train yourself.” “Yeah well, we had an agreement. And I knew I’d be out of chances if I had gotten on. Didn’t even have a ticket or anything, I jumped over the gantry.” “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.” Namjoon looks up at him. “But thanks for honouring our agreement. Once Jaemin gets the footage, I’ll deal with it. And I’ll speak to y/n.” “Thanks.” Jungkook cracks a smile, though he doesn’t look any better than before. “Now go wash up or something.” He shoves Jungkook’s head lightly. “You’re so pathetic you got Jaemin feeling bad for you…”

⎼

After a cold shower, you sink into your bed, trying to find some comfort in the cool sheets. But turning on your side, your eyes make contact with the framed photo of the two of you on your bedside table. You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. Hana pads into the room, stopping by your bed and offering you a cup of hot cocoa. Eventually you sit up, accepting the drink and taking small sips. “What’s gonna happen now?” She asks, tilting her head. She’d spent an hour sitting with you on the couch, allowing you to let it all out. The news had come to a shock to her as well, and she’d spent the first ten minutes silently holding you while you sob. “He’s gonna leave.” You shrug, stating it like you’re trying to convince yourself more than her. “There’s nothing I can do.” Hana nods, oddly silent. She sits on your bed in thought, pursing her lips with her arms folded, “So…what are you doing?” “Nothing?” You repeat yourself. “I mean, what are you doing here?” She asks, chuckling like it’s amusing. You’ve yet to realise what’s so funny. “You’re telling me that your boyfriend ⎼ the one you spent the last month grieving so hard for because you didn’t want to believe he was gone  ⎼ has to leave the country soon, and you’re here and not spending whatever time left you have with him?” Her question knocks you so hard off your balance that you sober up. “I⎼ I’m just…he should’ve told me sooner. He knew about it and he hid it from me.” “And that’s important right now?” You felt more judged than you’ve ever felt. “Seriously? Who cares? You want to waste time sulking? Have you thought about how he feels? Having to leave everything behind including his girlfriend, who he loves so much he almost took a bullet for?” “He did take a bullet for me.” You counter, as if that’s the pressing issue here. She raises her brows and tilts her head, the sassiest she’s ever been. “Really.” You take a deep breath. Why are you here? Like you said, there’s nothing you can do about it, so why harp on the fact that he kept this from you? You’re wasting precious time right now. When your eyes dart back to Hana, she smiles, knowing you’ve come to your senses. Getting up to your feet and scrambling for your belongings, you mutter, “You’ve always liked him better, haven’t you?” Her smug look waves you goodbye as you rush out, calling the first person that comes to mind to help you get back to Namjoon’s apartment. 

⎼

Jungkook stares up at the ceiling, not having moved from the couch since noon. When Namjoon comes back after a meeting, he shakes his head at the disinterested Jungkook, who only spares him a single glance before going back to zoning out. “Did you call her yet?” He asks. Namjoon huffs. “I’m sorry, I had work to attend to. Your problems aren’t exactly at the top of my list right now.” “Okay.” Jungkook blinks, turning over to face the inside of the couch. Namjoon runs his hand over his face. To not have a comeback for his sarcasm tells him how bad things are. “Look I know you’re upset but you can’t⎼” His sentence stops halfway when the front door opens, followed by the tune it makes. It gets Jungkook curious and he turns to Namjoon who has his eyes set on the door. He gets up, and eyes go wide when he sees you standing there, smiling sheepishly with Jaemin right behind you. “Y/N?” Jungkook perks up. He gets on his feet with a sudden burst of energy and you run into his open arms, pressing yourself against his chest. “Jungkook. I’m sorry.” You say, tears rolling down despite your eyes squeezed tight. He doesn’t hear a word you say, feeling only the tightness in his chest at the relief that you came back. Namjoon nods to Jaemin and you hear the door close. “Sit down Y/N, I’ll explain everything.” 

⎼

It’s been hours since you returned, and Namjoon and Jaemin have since retreated back to their apartments, giving you some privacy. Namjoon had spent some time explaining the move, but much of the details were redacted, not leaving you with a lot. Mostly because the information was classified. “Is this really necessary?” You ask. “Yes.” Namjoon says firmly. “In exchange for his cooperation, we’re offering him protection. Right now, as far as anyone knows, Jungkook or “Ace”, is being held at an out-of-state institution. That’s why we’ve had to keep him here since. If anyone knew he was somehow involved in the whole operation, he’d have a target on his back.” “Kim and Hongjun are dead, aren’t they?” “But there are others. And these people may have connections on the outside that we don’t know about.” You look at Jungkook, sitting idly beside you. “Sort of like witness protection.” “Something like that, yeah.” Namjoon agrees. “But we have enough evidence to tie them to the crimes. We don’t need him as an actual witness. But, we still need to play it safe till the trial.” Jungkook squeezes your hand, “It’ll only be a few years.” “Yeah,” you nod, smiling weakly, “I’ll call you every day.” “No.” Namjoon interrupts almost immediately, eyes wide in alarm. “No calls. We’re going no contact.” Your heart sinks even more, mouth agape. “What? But⎼” “That’s how it works; he’ll have a new identity, new job, new background in a new country.” He says, “He’s not going to be Jungkook anymore ⎼ and for security purposes we can’t disclose to you his new identity or where he’s going. As far as you know, Jungkook’s gone. The last time you saw him was the night of the raid.” You take a deep breath, frustration mingling with the grief in your chest. “And when he comes back in a few years? Won’t that be suspicious?” “In a few years selling the idea that he was held in a different state wouldn’t be a problem. He could say he got out early for good behaviour or something.” Namjoon waves his hand vaguely. “We’ll talk about that when the time comes.” In a different country, living under a fake name with little to no contact with anyone he knows here. You lie next to Jungkook, listening to him talk about the move. You keep your feelings in check, knowing how much more anxious he must be. You go quiet and he glances at you, zoned out. Nudging you, he gets on his side and places his palm to your cheek. “Hey. You okay?” “Oh yeah, sorry.” You smile, grabbing his hand. “I just got distracted.” You hate to make him worry, especially now. The one thing you can do for him is to make sure he knows you’ll be okay. “Is it about me leaving?” He asks. You shake your head and he gives you a look. “Liar.” You chuckle, sliding up and leaning against the headboard. “Five more days, right?” He looks at you with a blank stare, hating how casual you are about it. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay with this.” “I’m not.” You shrug, lacing your fingers with his as he slides up and joins you, “But Hana’s right ⎼ there’s no time to mull over how much this sucks.” Jungkook tightens his grip. “I should’ve told you sooner.” “Yeah,” your voice cracks a smidge and you clear your throat, “you’re a dick.” “Sorry.” He kisses the side of your head. “It’s fine,” you say, more so convincing yourself than him, “let’s make the best of the next few days, okay?” Jungkook nods, pressing his head against yours. The air feels heavy with your worries, wearing you down. His arm lays heavy over you as you lay there silently, looking out the window. Behind you, the absence of his snoring tells you he lies awake behind you as well. It’s evident that neither of you are okay with this, but the only thing that you need right now is to sit with those feelings. As uncomfortable as they may be. 

⎼

The next morning, the news plays on the television, reporting on details of the case. Namjoon sits on the couch, paying close attention while Jungkook stays close by as he tidies the house, glancing at the screen every now and then. You tune it out, feeling all sorts of ways every time they bring up a trial. “How’s the media so fast with the info…” Namjoon mutters to himself, turning the volume down. “You’re probably not the only one with an informant,” Jungkook says mindlessly and he scoffs. “So, you ready?” Jungkook stops wiping the table down and stares at him. Namjoon goes back and forth between you two, picking up on the awkwardness. “No?” “Does it matter?” Jungkook shrugs. Namjoon’s shoulders drop slightly. “I know this is hard on you, but it’s the best case scenario.” “I get that.” Jungkook says, going back to cleaning. Avoiding further eye contact with Namjoon, the older man looks to you, and you shake your head, signalling him to leave it be. “Alright, I’m gonna go. And I’ll be back in the evening with your guests.” He says, nodding to you with a smile. You bid him goodbye as he leaves. Minutes later, Jungkook abandoned his chore, choosing to sit on the high stool of the counter, watching as you work on a batch of brownie batter. You smile up at him when you notice how intensely he’s staring. He then moves from his seat, coming up behind you, resting his head on your head and arms around your waist. “Chill, I’m not running away again anytime soon.” You joke, and he smiles. The two of you found the whole thing rather amusing after talking it out. But at the back of your minds, the pressing reality haunts the both of you. Your laughters drown out the anxiety of what’s to come. “Sure you’re not mad at me still?” He asks, peeking down. “Folding that batter rather harshly.” “Positive.” You say firmly. “Maybe a little…” He peppers kisses on your cheeks, squishing your face between his fingers and forcing you to drop the spatula into the bowl. “Better?” Your cheeks hurt from smiling wide. He traps you between his body and the counter, and you look up at him smiling down. “I love you.” You blurt out, and his smile drops for a moment. “I love you too.” He whispers, looking down. “I’m sorry. I wish…it could be different…” “Hey,” you stop him, bringing his eyes back to you, “we said we wouldn’t do that…” A solemn smile appears on his face. He nods at your words. “Yeah, you’re right.” It hurts to see him so miserable, perhaps even more miserable than you are on the inside. But harping on what can’t be changed is fruitless. The time you have left can be spent cherishing whatever you have now. “Now, why don’t you start preparing what we need for tonight?” You change the subject and bring him back to the present. It works in the moment, when you notice his face eases up, and he gets to work, opening up the cabinets to fish out the dinnerware. While he gets to work, you glance at him occasionally, wondering how he managed to keep up a front the last week you’ve been together, knowing he’d eventually have to leave. He looks up and smiles at you, and you feel a tug at your heartstrings, knowing you won’t be seeing that for a long time.

⎼

The mirror has seen Jungkook more than you have the entire afternoon. He puts on a simple blue sweater you picked and paired it with black jeans, getting a weird feeling in his tummy when he thinks about the dinner. Even though he denies it, you know he’s excited, jittery even, to see his friends again. While he waits, Jungkook practises his smile, then physically cringes at how ridiculous he’s being. Luckily you’re not here to laugh at him. You’d left a while ago, waiting for Namjoon and the others at the basement carpark. Jungkook flops down on the bed, trying to stop his heart from beating so fast. Meanwhile, downstairs, you stand near the entrance of the basement ready to greet the two black SUVs as they arrive. The first one opens up to a beaming Hana, excitement showing in her demeanour. If Namjoon had been in the car, he definitely would’ve figured out that she knows. Ten minutes later, Hoseok and Jimin’s car arrive and you see Jimin immediately darting towards you, going in for a hug. “Where’ve you been, stranger?” He asks, squeezing you. “Here and there.” You say, leaning into him. Catching up behind him, Hoseok offers you a warm smile, relieved to see you in good spirits. Once you pull away from Jimin, he steps forward. “First of all, I’m sorry about last time. We were jerks. I was a jerk.” You wave it off. “Don’t worry about that. I’m good now.” “Really?” He raises a brow, casting a doubtful look at your switch up. He finds it strange when you extend your arm to give him a hug as well, but doesn’t oppose. Namjoon shows up from behind, ushering everyone to the lift lobby. Everyone is quiet, paying close attention as he scans his biometrics, waiting for a green flash to appear before pressing the button to his floor. You giggle at their awed expressions. “I’ve missed you,” Jimin nudges you, “you’re okay?” “Of course she is,” Hana chimes in just as the elevator stops, opening up to the corridor. Namjoon leads the way, once again using his biometrics to unlock the door. “Look at this place. I bet it has a great⎼” “The view…” Jimin continues, pushing past you and Hana and going straight for the high windows. The other two join him and they gawk at the skyline, completely ignoring the nice table set up you and Jungkook had worked on. Hoseok shakes his head. “I always knew you were rich but you’re actually rich rich.” “Oh come on,” Namjoon scoffs, “this place technically belongs to my company.” “Still,” Hana shrugs, “no wonder y/n wouldn’t go back home.” She winks your way and you widen your eyes, trying to control the huge grin. Namjoon then takes it upon himself to hand out champagne glasses, “Here you go guys…thanks for coming over tonight. I really wanted everyone to be able to come together after…all that’s happened.” Everyone stands to face Namjoon as he speaks. Without realising, their glasses start to fill, starting with Hana. She turns to the server, about to relay her thanks, not thinking much about the fact that maybe Namjoon had a butler whose presence she had missed. But she goes for a double take, before words can even be said, and the man shoots her a charming wink before moving ahead. Hoseok’s glass is next.

“Congrats on the successful case.” Hoseok says, angling his glass to allow for a better flow. But he’s much too focused on Namjoon to notice anything. “I can finally stop pretending not to know you.” “Yeah, you killed it.” Jimin chimes in. “You don’t even know who he is.” Hana raises a brow at him. “I’ve seen him around okay?” Jimin mutters, watching the liquid fill his glass. He glances at the server and smiles, raising his glass. “Cheers. Thanks Jungkook.” Your smile grows wider as you watch Jimin freeze just an inch away from the glass touching his lips. Hoseok snaps his head to the man behind him, mouth parting and unable to tear his eyes away from the sight that he doesn’t even think is real. Jimin spins around, carefully studying the person standing an arm’s length away from him. Jungkook notices the twist of his face, one he always makes when he’s emotional. “Jungkook!” In his excitement, red wine spills all over the floor as he jumps towards Jungkook, holding him tight. Welcoming the embrace, Jungkook’s smile reaches his eyes and he lets his head drop to Jimin’s shoulder. “Hey, Jimin. Long time no see.” “Jeon Jungook, what the hell.” Hoseok mutters unbelievably. He turns to Namjoon for confirmation, as if the person he’s looking at might just be a figment of his imagination. Even as Jimin pulls away, collecting himself, Hoseok finds it hard to believe that it’s the same Jungkook he’d spent weeks checking hospitals for, the Jungkook he thought had fled somewhere far away. He’d gone through many different scenarios in his head, of when he would somehow see Jungkook again, but he didn’t think it would be so soon. Staring at him wide-eyed, almost as nervous as he is, Jungkook clears his throat. “Hi, hyung.”

⎼

Under the table, Jungkook’s hand finds solace in yours, squeezing every time the nerves get to him. He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, but as soon as he sees your reassuring smile, he relaxes. You turn your palm over, letting your fingers lace together with his. Everyone’s impatience forced Namjoon to retell the story over dinner; how the plan came about and where Jungkook fit into all of it. As absorbed as you were the first time, everyone eats silently while Namjoon goes on. Seeing how Jungkook has barely touched his food, you lean in to whisper, “You okay?” Jungkook sneaks a glance at the others, all focused on Namjoon, “I feel weird.” He admits. His sweaty palms are a testament to that, as well as eyes that shy away from the others. “You’re doing fine. Just be yourself.” Jungkook nods, swallowing the lump in his throat as he tries to figure out how to do that. What does being himself mean? He’d always been himself around them, but that was his old self. Just as he’s getting lost in his thoughts, he feels the weight of three pairs of eyes turn to him. “I can’t believe you were his informant the entire time,” Hana says, “You played the role so well, I thought ya’ll couldn’t stand each other.” “Oh that wasn’t acting.” Jungkook shakes his head, “I actually can’t stand him.” Already anticipating such a response, Namjoon’s eyes roll as far back as they can go. Heart thumping at his first comment out loud, Jungkook sucks in a breath to calm himself. You give him a squeeze of his hand to let him know he did good. “And you never figured it out?” Jimin asks, side eyeing you. You punch him lightly and he pouts. “Hey, no one knew. You’re his best friend and you didn’t figure it out either.” “How did you do it?” Hoseok asks, and there’s a moment of awkwardness as everyone waits for Jungkook’s reply. “Must’ve been lonely…not having anyone to talk to about it with.” He takes a while to think, huffing a small laugh as he plays with the cut up meat on his plate. “It wasn’t easy…I had to keep lying to people. Which made things a lot more complicated because the lies kept coming back to bite me.” Everyone takes a moment, realising it’s the first time they’ve ever heard Jungkook speak so vulnerably. It’s new to him too, only ever being comfortable to open up around you. And Suga. “Probably didn’t help that someone kept meddling,” Namjoon says, breaking the tension. His eyes hook right on to yours, “Even after getting a warning. Multiple warnings in fact.” “I’m very passionate about my loved ones.” You stick your nose proudly in the air, earning a scowl from Namjoon. “Did you know?” Hana asks, avoiding your stare. “We went through such lengths to keep things from you.” Jungkook glances at you, smiling. “I had no idea. I just thought she was obsessed.” Your jaw drops as a round of laughs make its way through the table and Jungkook grins. He pulls you close to his side, squishing your cheeks. “I’m kidding.” He says. “I knew you were a meddler but I didn’t think it went that far.” “Yeah, you were basically running your own operation while we ran ours.” Namjoon shakes his head and you throw a broccoli his way, hitting him right on the forehead. He sits back in his chair, jutting his chin out with restrained annoyance as Jimin and Hana snicker across from him. Next to Namjoon, Hoseok watches on with a smile while you go back and forth, still finding it odd to be sitting on the same table as his friend and everyone else, especially Jungook. He sneaks a glance in Jungkook’s direction, only to find him already staring. Taken by surprise at the sudden eye contact, Jungkook blinks rapidly before finding interest in his food. You manage to catch the tiniest look of endearment on Hoseok’s face as he’s looking at Jungkook. His eyes then drift over to yours, eyes crinkling into a smile, which you return. Hoseok’s heart thumps in his chest, seeing the most genuine smile he’s ever seen from you. 

⎼

After some persuading, Namjoon agreed to bring everyone up to the rooftop, where Jungkook and you often frequent. You were too excited to be able to share the view with your friends, hooking your arm around theirs, immediately dragging them past the pool towards the rooftop garden. Strolling behind, Namjoon, Hoseok and Jungkook walk at a steady pace. Jungkook walks a couple of steps behind the other two, snorting when he hears your voice in the distance, blabbering about something. Namjoon glances back, then bumps his elbow against his friend. Hoseok looks at him curiously, and Namjoon nods towards the back, and as Hoseok’s eyes dart to Jungkook, awkwardness wraps around his entire being. With a curt nod, Namjoon gets ahead, catching up with everyone else, leaving Hoseok and Jungkook alone for the first time tonight. In an effort to be the bigger person, Hoseok slows down to match his steps with Jungkook. They make eye contact the moment they walk side by side, and both huff out an awkward chuckle. “Sorry I’m just feeling a little…” “Awkward?” Jungkook finishes his sentence and they both laugh, then fall quiet again. “Feels weird when we’re not arguing over something.” Hoseok huffs, smiling as he nods in agreement. “How’ve you been?” “Okay I guess.” Jungkook shrugs. “You?” “Good.” Hoseok takes a breath. “It’s good to see you again.” Jungkook gets a weird feeling in his chest, something he hasn’t felt since he was a child. Faint memories of his family come back to him for some reason. “I thought you escaped somehow.” Hoseok says as they settle on the daybeds by the pool. He sits facing Jungkook, noticing his eyes drifting off to where you are, standing by the railing overlooking the view with the others. “She had a feeling you were still around though. We didn’t believe her.” “She’s always right.” Jungkook chuckles and so does Hoseok. “But I don’t blame you. Classic me move, right? Running away every time there’s a problem.” Hoseok’s smile drops. Seemingly unbothered by his own comment, Jungkook stretches his leg out in front of him, patting his palms on his thighs. All the times he’s criticised Jungkook comes to mind, wondering how much Jungkook must have internalised for him to be okay saying such things about himself. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.” Unsure if he had heard right, Jungkook’s stares at him wide-eyed. “What did you say?” “I’m really sorry,” Hoseok repeats, shaking his guilt-ridden head. “I’ve spent many nights thinking about how badly I treated you. It was horrible…” Jungkook smiles. “It’s okay.” “No, don’t say that.” Hoseok sighs. “Don’t let me off the hook so easily. I was always criticising you and telling you what to do, judging you when I didn’t even know you at all. You were right when you said I had a saviour complex. I kept saying that I was doing all that because I cared ⎼ and I did, I still do ⎼ but I went about it the wrong way.” “I should’ve sat down with you and tried to understand you. Then maybe I could’ve given you real advice. But instead I just ordered you around.” “I mean, I wasn’t the easiest to talk to.” Jungkook rubs the back of his head with a sheepish smile. “And a lot of what you said was true, I just didn’t want to hear it.” “It's hard to hear over someone constantly berating you.” Hoseok says. “At some point I even turned on you and let my feelings for y/n get in the way. Wasn’t till she told me off one day that it really hit me…you should’ve just socked me in the face.” “Trust me, I thought about that a lot.” Jungkook admits, laughing. “I’m kidding. Not gonna lie, you were annoying. But now that I can think clearly, looking back, I can see you meant well. Back then I had so many things on my mind, and your constant lectures were just something I couldn’t deal with. Which is why I was so defensive.” “You did have a lot going on…I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Hoseok offers an apologetic smile. “All that time you were actually in on the case with Namjoon.” “To be fair, before that I was just a menace.” Jungkook chuckles, and Hoseok realises he’s never been able to sit with Jungkook like this, hearing him laugh about silly things. “When I got involved, I had to bite my tongue from letting it slip every time we fought. I wanted so badly to tell you I’m trying, I’m trying to change.” It makes Hoseok emotional hearing that; it was all he ever wanted, for Jungkook to be a better person. Yet when it was happening, he didn’t even realise it. Regret seeps through his entire being. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” It’s something Jungkook can smile about now, though he remembers the frustration at the time. “It’s all good now. Water under the bridge.” Almost as if he doesn’t recognise the person in front of him, Hoseok tilts his head slightly, admiring Jungkook. The rude, indifferent boy no longer present, replaced with a level-headed version of him; mature yet surrounded by a youthful aura. “In the end, you did the right thing though. And all on your own.” Hoseok grins, “I’m proud of you.” The four words echo through Jungkook’s head and he looks away, feeling that ache in his chest again. What follows is an odd sensation of relief washing over him. The mix of emotions confuse him, and perhaps it’s because he never truly allowed himself to have such moments; the only ever person he would let himself be open with was with you. And now, he sits here, blinking away tears. Jungkook clears his throat. “I um…I wanted to thank you.” “For what?” “Just…” Jungkook shrugs, “I know that it was you who got Namjoon involved in the first place⎼” “I’m sorry for that too,” Hoseok buries his head in his hands, “I didn’t think things would get so serious. I thought it would be a simple crackdown and you’d be free. But this⎼ I didn’t⎼” “I know,” Jungkook says gently, “Namjoon told me everything. But also…for always being there for y/n. You care a lot about her and I appreciate it, you’ve always looked out for her. And I hope you can continue to do that.” Something about the way Jungkook said it made Hoseok feel uneasy. His tone had been ominous and loaded, there was definitely more to it. But before Hoseok has a chance to question it, Jungkook’s attention rips away from him and he straightens up happily, eyes hooked on to your approaching figure.

“Hey.” You plop down right next to him, “What are you two talking about?” “Stuff.” Jungkook says, stretching his arm out over your shoulders. Hoseok nods, “Stuff.” “Fascinating.” You say bluntly, then turn to Hoseok. “Have you seen the view? It’s ⎼” “We were actually just talking about how stubborn you are.” Jungkook cuts you off, winking at the man across from him. “Yeah,” Hoseok huffs out, puffing his cheeks and his head sways side to side, “remember when she made a deal with Hongjun and got herself in trouble?” “Oh yeah, how could I forget.” Jungkook sighs. “Can you imagine? Putting herself at risk like that.” Their heads spin to you, gauging your reaction. Just as they thought, you sit there with your arms folded, forehead creased with annoyance. You go back and forth between the two of them. “I don’t like this new dynamic.”

⎼

Jungkook tries to recall the last time his cheeks hurt from smiling too much. Or if he’s ever laughed as much as he has tonight. He’d sink into pockets of awkwardness at times, but it wasn’t hard to get back into the rhythm and pick himself out of that hole. It makes him think about the last few years, and how different life could’ve been and how much he might’ve missed out on. Across the room, you take turns to play a video game Namjoon put on, the four of you screaming every time a character is annihilated. Jungkook opens the fridge and stares mindlessly at the inside for a minute. Namjoon then comes up behind him, shuffling around the kitchen for some snacks. He finds a packet of chips and tears the bag open while his back leans against the counter. Feeling a pair of eyes trained on him, Jungkook looks over his shoulder. “What?” “Ready?” Jungkook turns back around. “For what?” He mumbles as he bends down to grab a can. “To break the news to them.” He says quietly, “Or are you not doing that tonight?” The fridge door shuts a little too hard and Jungkook winces. In front of the television, the other four remain unbothered, eyes glued to the screen. “I don’t want to ruin the night.” Namjoon shrugs. “Although I’m sure they’d want to know sooner than later.” “Weren’t you the one who suggested I tell them on the day I’m leaving?” “Yes,” Namjoon drags the word out, “that is usually how we do it. But I’m willing to close one eye and let you have a choice.” “I don’t even think I can do it.” Jungkook says, looking over at them again. How can he drop the news so casually after tonight? It’s taken months to reveal himself to them, and for them to find out that he was working with Namjoon the whole time, only to then break the news that he has to leave in a matter of days? His shoulder drops when Namjoon places his hand on it. “I could make the announcement for you?” Jungkook gives it a thought. The joy on your face is something he doesn’t want to see gone. If you can put up a brave front despite already knowing, then he can too. Thinking back to the promise he’s made to you, to enjoy the last few days you have with each other, Jungkook makes up his mind. He shakes his head, and Namjoon nods with a smile. Everyone will just have to forgive him once more in the future. 

⎼

Jungkook fluffs the last pillow and sets it back neatly on the couch. Looking around, he exhales in triumph at how he’s managed to tidy up the place back to its original state. The quiet feels strangely odd, now that’s everyone’s gone home, even though it’s all he’s known in the last month. He grabs the trash bags you’d left by the kitchen, and steps outside to dump the last of them down the chute. Just before he makes his way back inside, Jungkook lingers by the doorframe, staring at the elevator where everyone said their goodbyes. “See you soon!” Hoseok said. And Jimin goes on about how he can’t wait for Jungkook to return to the house, thankful that they hadn’t cleared out his room. Jungkook could only smile, knowing he in fact won’t be back. After washing up, you enter the room to find Jungkook on the bed, looking through your phone with a towel around his damp hair. You climb on his back, taking a whiff of his body wash and sighing immediately. Jungkook’s smile stretches wider as he scrolls through the pictures you took tonight. Your chin finds a spot on his shoulder and you let your weight rest on him. “That was a nice night, right?” “Mhm.” He nods and you kiss the side of his face. “I was awkward though.” “But you did so well.” You reassure him, rolling off his back and joining him on your front, shoulder to shoulder with him. “Everyone was so happy to see you.” Jungkook’s heart swells, something he’s still trying to get used to. He passes the phone back to you and gets on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He still thinks about the conversation he had with Hoseok, how for the first time ever, they’ve spoken without getting into a huge fight. “It was so crazy. Hoseok apologised to me, you know?” “Did he?” You lie on your side, head resting on your palm. “Yeah.” Jungkook smiles as he recalls. “It’s weird I got kind of nervous…but also happy.” “That’s cute!” You chuckle. “Deep down you actually do like him, don’t you?” “I guess I do now.” Jungkook thinks back to the old days, when he would roll his eyes at the sight of Hoseok or the whiff of his cologne. “Back then he was insufferable. But tonight…he was kinda cool. Apologising and shit.” “Did you apologise?” Jungkook turns to you confused. “What? Was I supposed to?” “I mean you were pretty mean to him back then.” You say and he frowns deeper. “Remember when you almost got us into a crash?” Jungkook’s face softens when you remind him of that. “Hey…” You laugh at his disappointment in you bringing it up again, though you never actually got to speaking about it since that night. “What? It’s true!” “But you slapped me after.” He says, as a matter-of-factly. “Cause you almost killed us…” You say slowly and, “and then you almost beat him up.” “Well if you hadn’t ran off with him…” You gasp dramatically, getting on your knees to twist his ear. He cries out in pain, but a smile still lingers on his lips. Strong arms hold you in place as you climb on top of him. “I didn’t run off with him! I was running away from you! Because you⎼” He easily plucks your hand away from his ear with the way you back down, slowly remembering the events of the night that led up to his car chase. The image of him holding Hongjun in a headlock appears in your mind.

His playful gaze softens, thumb caressing the back of your palm reassuringly. “That was when you asked me to run off with you, wasn’t it? You were warning me about the operation.” Nodding, it feels silly now knowing he was involved all along. It’s no wonder he was so reluctant to leave. “That was when things started to make sense; your behaviour, the break-up, why you were so adamant on running away with me.” Jungkook chuckles, sitting up to get closer to you. His arms keep you in place on his lap. “Could you tell I was panicking?” “I didn’t realise,” you admit, “I thought you wanted to stay loyal to your friends…it was so frustrating.” He laughs but it’s cut short when he doesn’t see you joining him. Instead, your eyes glaze over, and he loses you in that moment. Only when the back of his fingers gently graze against your cheek do you return, eyes going back and forth between his. 

“You had that same look,” he whispers. You swallow, trying to focus on what he’s saying. “Hm?” “That night, you had the same look on your face.” He repeats, tilting his head when you avert your gaze, “Right before you ran off.” You slide off of him, grabbing a pillow to hug. Jungkook mirrors your movements, crossing his legs and letting your knees touch. When the distress on your face doesn’t go away, he gets nervous, frowning when he realises whatever it is, is bothering you that much. “Is it Hongjun?” He asks carefully, reminded of how anxious you got previously. You wet your dry lips, suddenly feeling warm under his stare. The thought of Hongjun still brings back bad feelings sometimes, but it’s not what Jungkook thinks it is. “Not exactly…” you mutter, stopping before you say more. With all that’s happened, you can’t even remember if you’d asked him about the video. “It’s…you see before that…” you swallow your nerves, “I was⎼ ugh fuck.” “Hey, it’s alright.” Jungkook places his hand over yours. “I don’t want you to get upset…” You say quietly. He reaches under your chin to lift your gaze, gentle eyes greeting you. He smiles. “Tell me.” You take another deep breath, squeezing his hand. “Back then, Hongjun was still contacting me.” Jungkook nods curtly, paying close attention. “Well...he…” His body visibly tenses from the suspense. “Did he do anything to you?” “No,” you shake your head and let your fingers intertwine with his, watching his shoulders relax, “I don’t know where to start…” Jungkook tucks stray hairs away from your face and runs his thumb over your cheek. “From the beginning?” Recalling your contact with Hongjun felt odd, now that he’s gone, and the usual uneasiness in Jungkook’s expression which normally surfaced, no longer an issue. He seems to have internalised that Hongjun would never come back to haunt him. From the first time he’d sourced you out at the cafe, right down to the time he waited for you on campus, Jungkook listens attentively as you explain how Hongjun had wanted you to help him. None of it came as a surprise to Jungkook, it was exactly the kind of person Hongjun was; devious and manipulative. If he had known all this was happening, it would have been over for him. But now that he’s dead, Jungkook finds it regretful only because it caused you so much stress. “He said some things about you and some of the things you did for Kim.” You say. Jungkook nods. “He was manipulating you. He knew you were his best bet in getting me out of the picture.” “The thing is, I knew deep down that’s what it was. But I was also scared…” Your words trail off and he lowers his head to match yours, “Scared of…me?” “Of the things he said you did.” You squeeze your eyes shut but he cups your face and brings it up to his. “I’ve said it before, haven't I? None of it’s true.” “I know that, I believe you.” Jungkook searches your eyes. “But?...” “There was a video. Of you.” He shifts uncomfortably, eyes locked on to yours. “You were in a fight. And it looked like you won, but the other guy…”

Jungkook seems to catch on to what you’re referring to. There’s been many fights he’s been over the years but only a few come to mind at once. And he can’t think of many that anyone would have a video of. If he wasn’t nervous before, now he is. “Wait,” his forehead creases, “he sent you a video of me in this fight?” “Yes.” You breath out shakily. “I didn’t want to believe him when he said you were doing all sorts of terrible things to people because of Kim. He kept trying to convince me that you needed me to save you. So he sent me that video as proof that if I don't help you, it’ll only get worse and worse.” “What did you see?” Staring at him, you hesitate to carry on, but he raises his brows, urging you with a silent promise that it’ll be okay. “There were people cheering and screaming. It was really loud. And I saw you somewhere in the middle of all that, tangled up with someone. He was in a chokehold, in your arms…and then I think he…” Shaking your head, you refuse to go on, averting your eyes to where your hands have balled up the blankets in your fists. “And I know you said you don’t⎼ you’ve never⎼ killed anyone but⎼” “Calm down⎼” “I don’t know what went down that night but I know you would never I know they made you do it, and⎼” “Stop.” “And I’m willing to move past that, I still love you.” Jungkook shuts his eyes and heaves out, dropping his head. For a moment you think he might lose it, or breakdown, something. But the corners of his lips curve up and now he’s looking at you with a tender look in his glossy eyes. “Who are you kidding my love? You’d have sleepless nights if the love of your life killed someone.” “But I’m⎼” “Thankfully he’s not.” The amusement all over his face doesn’t help to convince you. You can’t tell if he’s already accepted a man’s death by his hands or if he’s pushed the memory so far back into his mind, he’s convinced himself it never happened. Both possibilities don’t sound so good. “It’s not funny.” “I know, sorry.” He smiles, taking your hands in his. “I didn’t kill anyone.” “I saw the video, Jungkook. It was a fight to the death, people placed bets on you. You won, he died.” Jungkook nods, “That’s what I thought happened too. I was chosen to fight but he volunteered, I didn’t know the guy, hadn’t seen him before that night. I thought he was one of Barome’s men. Trust me…you have no idea how I felt after the fight, thinking I’d killed him.” “Wait, so…” “He’s not dead.”

As simple as they are, the words would not process in your head. It just made no sense. “Wha⎼ How? Are you sure?” “Namjoon said so.” Jungkook says. “That guy might have been undercover too. He didn’t go into too much detail but I’m guessing they figured out a way to make it look like he was dead for real. Wouldn’t be too hard considering everyone was pretty much high or wasted that night. I wish he’d told me cause I was inconsolable after.” “I don’t even remember the fight or what led up to it. Someone must’ve slipped me something. But I would never kill anyone, only knock them out cold. I don’t even know how to kill someone like that. So when I found out what happened…it was like a nightmare.” “Oh gosh…” your stomach twists, “I shouldn’t have believed Hongjun…” “I don’t blame you.” Jungkook smiles reassuringly. “I believed it myself. He really wanted you to get me out of the picture huh?” “Yeah, and it worked.” You smile sheepishly. “That’s why I was so flustered that night. I made excuses for it…like maybe you were forced to do it or something. But then when Hongjun showed up and I saw you hold him in a chokehold till he passed out…” “It reminded you of the video.” Nodding as your heart starts to fill with relief, pushing away any thoughts you had before, you crawl into his arms and he hugs you tight. “That’s why I wanted us to run away together. I thought I was saving you. Sorry.” “Don’t be. I know Hongjun and this is exactly the type of shit he’d pull.” Jungkook sighs. “I was stupid to even take up his offer.” You say, pulling away and rolling off face down into a pillow. Jungkook’s palm lands on your ass, and you let out a yelp, turning to scowl at him. Chuckling, he rolls you back to your front, sliding on his side to rest next to you. “You literally never listen.” With a roll of your eyes, you playfully slap him. He cups the side of his affected cheek and gasps. “Another slap.” “A loving one.” Jungkook leans in to capture your lips in a tender kiss, one that has your body melting into the mattress. Pulling away far too quickly, he chuckles at your half-lidded eyes, feeling the exhaustion catching up to himself after all the excitement of the day. You get comfy under the covers as he turns the lights off and pulls the curtains back, allowing the brightness of the city to illuminate the room instead. Ignoring the space you made next to you, he climbs on top and rests his weight on you, melting your bodies together. You hum out a sigh. “Heavy.” 

His body shakes with giggles, head nestled nicely between your bosoms. “But comfy.” Your body eventually adjusts to it, muscles relaxing beneath him, and fatigue slowly creeping over you. Fingers trace his scalp, easing him to closed eyes. “Thanks for coming back.” His voice fills the silence of the night. With no response, he thinks maybe you’ve fallen asleep, hands no longer stroking his head. But then they slide lower, rubbing his back soothingly. “Sorry for getting mad.” “Sorry for keeping it a secret.” “Sorry for conspiring with Hongjun.” Jungkook laughs, lifting his head. “Okay how far back are we gonna take this?” “I don’t know,” you grin and even in the dark he can’t stop staring, “but I am sorry.” “It’s not your fault.” He says, “Hongjun’s a master manipulator. He was just using you. Which is why I said not to engage with him.” “Like you said, it’s not my fault.” You shrug and he laughs unbelievably. Sliding up to meet his face with yours, the tip of his nose gently grazes yours. “I adore you, you know that?” His hot breath tickles, and a finger grazes over your face. “I know,” his head drops to your shoulder and you slap his back, “Jaemin told me you cried all night.” “I’m literally gonna wring his neck the next time I see him.” “Don’t be mean!” You say, “I like him. He’s nice.” Jungkook leans in closer, moving in to kiss you fervently. 

⎼

In the middle of the night, your eyes peel open after drifting out of a blank dream, leaving you dissatisfied and tossing over to find a more comfortable position. Turning to the other side, your arm stretches out to reach for something to cling to. But it falls to the bed much to your disappointment. In place of Jungkook, his lived-in spot and a tossed over blanket remain. No sounds appear to come from the bathroom, so you slip out the door which was left slightly ajar. And standing in front of the windows, you see his lonesome figure, staring outside. Sleep hasn’t been an issue ever since you came, but you know some nights still give him trouble. “Jungkook?” Trotting over to where he is, you drag your slippers against the floor. He must have heard you, but he remains still as a statue. “Nightmares again?” Only a soft sniffle can be heard in the silence. And as you come up to his side, illuminated by the city lights, you see tears streaming down his face, tired and strained eyes avoiding you. A wave of panic rushes through your body and you cup his face, feeling its warmth spreading to your hands. “What’s wrong?” Jungkook shakes his head, turning away. But you persist, pulling him back to face you. Words struggle to leave him and you can only wrap around him, holding him tight as whispering soft words of comfort. His head slowly drops, tears dampening the clothes on your shoulder. As if scared to make a sound, Jungkook continues to cry silently, sniffing every now and then. His arms hold on to you so tight you can feel the beating of his heart against your body. Wishing you knew what’s going on in that head of his, you run a soothing hand down his back, waiting for him to calm down before trying to pull away. A while passes and you almost doze off yourself, resting against the couch. At some point, he had let up enough for you to tug him there, where he found comfort in your lap. The sobbing slows down, and you take a peek, finding him still awake and staring at the blank screen ahead. “You okay?”

He nods, cheek brushing against your thigh. “Talk to me.” You say gently, giving him time to gather himself. “It keeps coming back to me,” he says, shifting his body so that he lays on his back, looking up at you, “every time I close my eyes I see him, lying there on the ground…” “Who?” “Kim.” It comes out in a whisper, and he shuts his eyes like it pains him. After all this time, you still don’t know what happened that night. The news had reported a cardiac arrest at the time of confrontation, but you know it’s not the full story, because they weren’t there either. Only Jungkook, Namjoon, Seokjin and Kim would know what actually happened then. 

You rub a thumb over his damp and sore cheek. He sniffles. “I close my eyes and I see him,” he repeats, struggling to continue, “I had to choose…between him…and…”With a hand over his chest, you feel the shakiness in his breath. He winces at the pain he feels inside. “Take your time.” You say softly. “I pointed the gun at him.” Jungkook continues with a strained voice. He sits up, feeling suffocated. “And the look on his face…I⎼ He was so disappointed, I know he was.” “Even after what happened at the club…he still trusted me y/n…” Jungkook says, “And I let him down. I betrayed him after everything he’s done for me. The moment he knew I wasn’t on his side, he⎼” Warm tears stream down his face faster than you can wipe them away. “His heart just stopped,” Jungkook says, with an empty look in his eyes. “It just stopped. Because of me. I killed him. He’s dead because of me.” Tears well up in your own eyes, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach at the sight of Jungkook so broken. Devastated by how he’s blaming himself for Kim’s death, you hush him. “Don’t say that.” “His last words to me were that he trusted me.” Jungkook whispers, hanging his head low. Embracing him, he’s much gentler this time, letting his chin rest on your shoulder. For so long, this has been bothering him with no one to talk to. So much so that it ended up eating him alive. Every night since Kim died, Jungkook has had the same recurring nightmare, one where he’s forced to remember Kim’s last moments, on the ground in that alley where he had revealed his alliance with Namjoon. Even if he did manage to get through the night, he would never feel fully rested. Kim’s death weighs heavy in his chest. He considers himself to blame, and no one can convince him otherwise. He was there that night, and nothing can change how it all happened, even if he so desperately wishes for things to have ended differently. “I’m so sorry.” You whisper, wishing you could absorb all the pain and let it consume you instead. “I didn’t know.” “That was the last time I saw him.” Jungkook says. “I still remember how cold his hand was against mine. He smiled at me, told me he trusted me. He left the company to me. To Suga.” Suga. Somehow you had forgotten about him. But you were also conscious of how Jungkook hadn’t uttered his name since, and figured it isn’t something he wants to talk about especially after the revelation of Jungkook as Namjoon’s informant. “And Suga…I let him down.” Jungkook sniffs. “I let him down. He saw the whole thing. The betrayal, Kim falling after.” Your heart beats wildly in your chest. What Mia told you before suddenly comes to mind; someone spotting Suga in this exact part of the city. It might be a coincidence, and it might not even be him, but you decide not to tell Jungkook yet. Knowing there’s nothing much you can say to snap him out of it, you comfort him in the only way you know how. Your presence keeps him grounded, and a tiny piece of the burden he’s been carrying lifts off his shoulders. Weariness overcomes Jungkook and his eyelids fight a losing battle. Not wanting to ruin his chances of getting some rest, you continue to rub his back, whispering words of comfort, and the two of you stay on the couch for the rest of the night with Jungkook snoring lightly next to you. His arm lies limp over your middle and you lay awake, staring at the ceiling as your thoughts cloud your mind. 

⎼

“What about winter coats?” You flash your screen to show him one you found online. His nose scrunches up. “Don’t know if I’ll need it there.” “Which is where…” You zip your lip when he raises a brow at you, shaking his head. “You know I can’t tell you.” He stops, eyes darting around. “Wait, I don’t even know where I’m going.” Jungkook looks down at the open luggage by his feet, going over a list in his head. It’s filled with the necessities; basic clothing, toiletries, and some snacks stashed under everything. You lie on your front, chin resting on your folded arms on the edge of the bed. “Thinking so hard as if you have that much stuff to begin with…” He looks at you amused. Every time he starts packing, you get huffy and sulky, a habit of yours whenever he tries to leave after staying over. “I would stash you in here if I could but explosives are prohibited.” Rolling your eyes, you ignore the comment and hop off the bed. In front of the mirror, you fix your hair and check yourself out from each angle. He watches your strange behaviour from where he’s standing, “What are you doing?” “Trying to see if I still got it.” You look at him from the reflection. “After all, I’m about to live life as a single woman again in a matter of days.” Jungkook almost chokes on his own saliva, swiftly turning away from the wardrobe to see if he heard you right. “Excuse me what.” “Oh, Jungkook and I broke up. He got a scholarship overseas and it was too good an offer to turn down. We decided it’s best we focus on our own things for now.” It was the cover you both decided on if ever someone asks about him, but he hates hearing you actually saying it like it’s true. “That’s what I’m supposed to say, right?” “Only if someone asks.” He frowns. “And they will. You were insanely popular, Jungkook.” You say, “I’m just practising.” “For what.” “For when I go to the club,” you sing-song, “when I party at the Omega’s, or maybe one of the hot teaching assistants will hit on me.” You prance around as you list down the places you’d go as a free woman, Jungkook’s sharp eyes locked on you as you move. “No.” He says and you turn to see him already stomping towards you. You back off but he’s too quick and his long legs make for big steps that has you within reach in seconds, and suddenly you find yourself being thrown over his shoulder, a harsh slap landing on your ass. “I don’t like this.” He grunts. With one swoop, he shifts you into his arms and your vision spins from the sudden movement. The next moment, he’s placing you in his luggage, trying his best to fold your body in half just to fit you in whatever space he has left. You laugh as he tickles your sides to stop you from resisting, and the mischievous grin on his face grows larger as he zips up the portion where half your body’s managed to squeeze into. “Let me go!” You yell in a fit of laughter, one of his hands holding on to your wrists and the other aiming for your ticklish spots. “No. I’m taking you with me.” He giggles when you actually stop resisting and try to squeeze the top half of your body and head into whatever space is left. Your silliness clouds the sounds coming from outside, where Jaemin had allowed himself in, initially concerned at the sounds of your screaming. Praying that the two of you weren’t in the middle of some weird and violent foreplay session, he struts towards the room and stands at the door frame, wondering if he should even make himself known. 

Jaemin sighs. “Should I be worried?” The unfamiliar voice startles you, and you let out a shriek that has Jungkook falling backwards. Jaemin shuts his eyes, regretting his decision to stop by. Hand over your chest as you catch your breath, you burst into laughter when you catch Jungkook’s eye. “Why would you do that?” Jungkook asks, unzipping the compartment where half your body rests. “I did nothing.” Jaemin says, eyes full of judgement as you struggle to get yourself off the luggage, managing to do so only with Jungkook’s help. “I came to check if you needed anything. Did you read through the list I handed you?” “Yes,” Jungkook pats the pile of clothes, “only packed the essentials like you noted.” “Good.” He smiles a little, the first time you’ve seen him do that. “Don’t worry about packing too little, we’ll provide you with new clothes and other stuff once we’re there. I just got off a video call with our point person too, the house looks good, everything’s sorted.” “That’s great.” Jungkook lets out a heavy exhale. “Just great.” The shift in Jungkook’s demeanour doesn’t go unnoticed. Jaemin glances at you for a second, “I’m nervous too. It’s my first time in charge of such a big task.” His confession was unexpected but strangely comforting. At least you know Jungkook won’t be alone. You are interested in how these two are going to get along, knowing how hard-headed Jungkook can be. “It’ll be fine.” Jaemin’s confidence lightens Jungkook's mood slightly, a tiny smile creeping its way onto his face. 

⎼

“I’m not getting kidnapped, am I?” You watch the tall buildings slowly disappear, eventually leaving you with the view of clear skies, long roads and lines of cars as you get onto the highway. “Maybe you are.” His fingers squeeze through your fist and interlace with yours. “You’re coming with me.” “As hostage?” You scoff. “This isn’t my first rodeo you know?” Jungkook laughs. “Like I’d ever bring the snitch with me if I were running.” He braces for the punch that lands, though he knows it won’t hurt. Laughing adorably, he stretches his arm over your shoulder to pull you in closer just so he can wipe the pout away with his palm brushing over your face. “Stop it!” “I’m kidding,” he kisses the side of your head, “I’m taking you to meet someone special.” “Someone special?” On his face is a look you’ve never seen before; a mixture of anticipation and delight. Rarely does he ever get excited about anything enough to show it, and being this vulnerable is still something new. When he told you about a short trip, you expected one to the nearest department store to get essentials he might need. But the car gets further and further away from the city, and Jaemin continues on the route, the farthest he’s ever brought you both. After leaving in the morning, breakfast was from a drive-through and the car stopped by the side of a road near a park, allowing you, and Jaemin, to people watch as you eat peacefully. Then it’s off, without so much as a word from the younger man. He seems to know where he’s going though you assume it was entirely Jungkook’s idea based on how excited he is. You’re surprised Namjoon even approved this trip given how there's only two days left till his departure ⎼ something that’s been eating away at you silently. Two hours later, the roads begin to get narrower, and traffic gets slower. More greenery and houses come into view as you see a simple welcome sign by the side of the road as you enter a quaint and pretty town. Going past schools, apartments and houses, Jaemin stops the car at the basement level carpark of a mall. Scanning the surroundings, he stops only when he notices something, before the engine goes off. Turning in his seat, he hands Jungkook what looks like a burner phone. “Call if there’s an emergency. I’m on speed dial.” “You’re not coming with us?” You ask, genuinely surprised that he’s letting you off on your own in a random town.

He eyes Jungkook who beams from ear to ear. “It is a small town. And the threat is low here, so I can let you go for a while.” Apart from the phone, Jungkook is also handed two transport cards and a tracker, much smaller than an electronic tracker you’d see on offenders, just in the form of a sleek black band which he reluctantly hooks above his ankle. “Plus a black SUV driving around would probably stick out more than a couple taking a walk down the street.” Jaemin says, then stretches his neck out to search outside, pointing to an old blue and white Volvo parked on the opposite lot behind the SUV. You notice two figures sitting in the driver and passenger’s seat. “See that? That’s ours. They’ll be driving around town just in case. If there is an emergency and I can’t get there in time, I’ll activate them.” “Alright.” Jungkook says and you nod. “I’d still avoid contact unless absolutely necessary. Y/N, I’m gonna have to ask you to take the lead if need be.” “Sure,” you agree, watching Jungkook put on a mask and a cap. “And Jungkook, remember, this is your home⎼” “I know.” He cuts the man off eagerly and Jaemin takes the hint. “Send me a text when you’re done. I’ll give you instructions on where to go next.” “Got it.” Jungkook says, hand on the handle of the door. His enthusiasm is contagious, like a child on an excursion. Still, he waits for Jaemin to give the okay before practically prancing out, motioning for you to do the same. Hand in hand, you make it up the lift to the first floor of the mall, noticing how much slower and calm everything is. It’s unlike the usual chaos you’d find back in the city, with kids running around, talking loudly over the phone, and the less than friendly looks everyone gives each other. After a short walk, Jungkook stops by a flower shop. He spends a good five minutes looking through the fresh flowers in the fridge, contemplating on the perfect ones while you stroll around. Just as a bunch of tulips catch your eye, Jungkook comes up to you with fresh daisies in hand. “Who are these for?” You ask, complimenting his choice. “For the special person we’re going to see today.” “You still haven’t told me who it is.” He walks ahead towards the cashier and you tag along behind him, pausing as he does, and watching him reach over to grab a single rose stalk. Doe eyes smiling from under the cap, he offers the rose to you. Sheepishly, he turns as you accept it, heading straight for the counter where a young lady waits, having seen the whole interaction. She smiles knowingly, grabbing the flowers and skillfully wrapping them with brown paper. As she sticks the last tape over the bouquet and covers it with a sticker, she glances up curiously. “Are you two new here?” Jungkook’s elbow gently nudges yours. “Oh, no. We’re visiting a friend.” “Oh, how nice.” She says, eyeing Jungkook, who pays the amount in cash. “Well I hope they like the flowers!” “Thanks.” Jungkook says out of courtesy, then sneaking a glance at you when he remembers he’s not supposed to speak to anyone. Thankfully it didn’t matter to the cashier, who goes back to what she was doing prior after wishing you a lovely day. 

Flowers were the only thing on Jungkook’s list, and the two of you then got on a bus just five minutes away from the mall. He only briefly checks the route information before confirming which bus to take. Still having no idea where you’re going, you follow him blindly, trusting that he’ll figure it out. Only two others get on the bus at the same time, a woman in scrubs who takes the seat at the back, resting her head against the window as soon as she gets comfortable, and a young man with headphones on, eyes glued to a game he plays on his phone. Throughout the ride, Jungkook is quiet, completely absorbed into taking in the scenes out the window. The flowers lay in his lap, held so carefully to make sure they don’t get crushed. You watch the way his eyes sometimes fall to the bouquet, and realise how special this person is to him. Who could it be? You wonder. Maybe Suga? But flowers are an odd choice. Unless he’s recovering from something. And why at this random town two hours away? Fifteen minutes later, you reach the stop. Jungkook presses the bell and taps your thigh to signal you to get off. As the bus drives off, it leaves the two of you standing amidst a gust of smoke from the exhaust. Awaiting his next direction, Jungkook slips his hand in yours. Without saying much, he crosses to the other side of the road and takes you on a stroll down the street. At three in the afternoon, the clear, blue sky puts you in a cheerful mood. You don’t even mind the long walk with how picturesque everything looks here. Brown leaves have fallen on the ground lining the pathway, a cool breeze picking up every now and then and the smell of bread being blown in your direction from a nearby bakery. Everyone walks without rushing, and cars drive by without revving their engines or honking. Your arms linked together swing in between your bodies. “It’s just up ahead.” Jungkook informs you. Though you’ve had plenty of time to spend with Jungkook back at the apartment, the change of pace and environment makes everything a hundred times better. What more, Jungkook seems to be in the best mood you’ve seen him since. “Jungkook.” “Hm?” He turns to look at you. “Is this your hometown?” You get your answer when his steps slow down for a second and his interest moves to the cracks in the pavement as you continue to walk. “How’d you know?” “I figured,” you shrug, “Jaemin said something in the car earlier, and you just seem so comfortable here.” He nods, squeezing your hand. “This is where I’m from. Things have changed much but…some things are still the same.” You’re dying to ask more, but his eyes glaze over as he sinks into his own memories of the place, and you can feel the homesickness practically oozing out of his bones. A part of him still feels connected to this place after all this time, even when it’s where he experienced his first and gut-wrenching heartbreak of his life. And ten minutes later, you realise why. It clicks the moment you walk up a small hill with a narrow pathway, lined with shrubbery. Upon reaching the top of the hill, it expands into a gated area where hundreds of graves lie. “Are we…” You trail off as he carries on walking, not letting go of the grip on your hand behind him. The one he’s looking for is further back, passing by rows and rows of others who have left, and a handful of other people who are here to visit. Jungkook eventually comes to a stop and you watch his back as he takes another deep breath. From up the hill, though it’s not much higher than the roads, a nice view of the town greets you, just enough to see the roofs of nearby houses. 

Turning back, you see Jungkook take the first step towards one of the headstones. He stops right by the foot of it, and takes a moment to himself while you stay in your spot. Jungkook takes his cap off and pulls down his mask before kneeling on the ground to lay the flowers. He calls you over with a nod and there’s a tremble in your steps, feeling the jitters in your tummy. The headstone is a little darker than the others around it, but the lack of weeds growing around it tells you it’s cared for in some way. You kneel by Jungkook’s side, reading the carving on the headstone. Jeon Jung-Ah. “This is…” “My sister.” He smiles, teary eyed. While you make yourself comfortable, Jungkook brushes dirt off the stone and picks any stray growth around the area. He spends a long time caring for his sister in the only way he can, while whispering updates about his life to her. He fills her in on what’s happened, about you, and how he has to leave and won’t be able to see her for some time. “It’ll be years before I can come visit you again.” He sighs after, touching the headstone. You watch him from the side with admiration in your eyes, how he’s so soft and gentle while speaking. Jungkook looks at you. “Do you come back often?” You ask. “Only in the last couple of years.” Jungkook admits, knowing it took him far too long to build up the courage to come back. “For so long I’d left this part of me behind. I wanted to forget everything and everyone. But it always made me feel guilty, like I left her behind too.” “One night when I was sick of work, I decided to drive back here. I felt ill stepping back into town, bombarded with all the bad memories of this place, but I just missed her so much. It was right when I was starting to get disconnected with things at work, and Kim and Suga…I needed someone to talk to and she was the only person I wanted to talk to.” “So you ended up here.” He nods, scooting closer so your legs touch. “I can’t remember well but before I ran off I think I only ever visited her once. So I spent all night trying to find her. After all these years, being right here feels like home more than anything else. Even if she is…” The gleam in his eyes disappears, struggling to keep his emotions at bay. Your warm hand reaches for his on his lap, squeezing tight. “She’ll always be with you. In here.” You point to his heart and he chuckles. “Hey. That’s my line.” He blinks the tears away and leans in to plant a kiss on your forehead. He looks at you like he has a lot to say. “You know, back then I asked if she could send me a sign, anything, to nudge me in the right direction. And then shortly after, Namjoon appeared. I came back again and asked for another sign…just to be sure. And then I met you.” Hair blowing in the gentle breeze, Jungkook’s gaze on you is tender. He’s never shared this with you before, and the sheepish look on his face before turning away chuckling tells you he wasn’t planning to. “How lucky,” you say and he looks at you confused, “to have someone so special watching over you.” Jungkook smiles, never having thought of it that way. “Yeah, I guess I am lucky.”

“She’d be proud of you.” You nod. “Of the person you’ve become.” The lump in his throat grows larger but he swallows it down. His eyes start stinging and he curses himself for not being able to stop a tear from falling off the side of his face, quickly wiping it away with the back of his hand. “I don’t know.” He laughs. “She probably would’ve smacked me in the head if she knew what I got into.” “But it all led up to the you that’s here right now.” You say. “A smart, sensible, responsible and brave man.” “And handsome?” You roll your eyes, but feel relieved knowing he can joke at a time like this. “Yes. Handsome too.” Jungkook laughs, pulling you into his arms. Blue skies eventually turn orange as the sun starts to set, and the winds get stronger, blowing leaves across the plot of land. You say your goodbye to Jung-Ah and wait by the side to let Jungkook have some privacy. His fingers never leave her headstone as he speaks, and you know it pains him to have to leave her again. While you can’t hear exactly what he’s saying, his form is clearly more relaxed than before. You take a moment to look at the view, the orange hue resting over the town, birds flying overhead and the sound of kids laughing as they ride their bicycles home after a day at the park. You wonder which one of these roofs used to house Jungkook as a child, if his family were still there, and what would they say if they saw him now. Jungkook’s hand slips into yours and pushes the thoughts out of you. “Ready?” He asks, shoulders feeling lighter than before. You nod. “Are you?” Taken aback by your question, he stares out at the view. This place that used to be all he knew, then all he wanted to forget, is now a place he can no longer call home. Only bits and pieces of the memories he shares with his sister keep him tied here. There may be a lot to unpack, and while he’s settled one part of his troubled life, he doesn’t think he can handle thinking about the past again. “Let’s go.” He says, kissing your temple. The two of you head towards the location Jaemin had given, taking your time. Jaemin was already waiting at the spot, but says nothing when you climb back inside the car, only nodding in the rear view mirror before driving off. Jungkook looks out the window as he does, taking in every little detail. Who knows when he’ll be back, and if things might even be as they are now. Questions about his family still plague your mind, but it’s not something you want him to be burdened with right now. So you let him relive his memories with his sister; smiling at the streets they used to ride down, the school gate she used to wait for him by, the candy shop she’d share half her allowance money on to splurge on sweets with him, and the hill she now lay to rest on, awaiting his return.

⎼

The incessant stinging in your chest won’t go away. Neither will the lump in your throat, and your face muscles are tired from tensing up every time you feel a pinch in the bridge of your nose. Across the room, you watch Jungkook hand over his luggage to Jaemin, accompanied by two other agents. As the door shuts, his eyes search for yours and you don’t turn away in time to hide the pain. Before he can utter a word, you rush in the direction of the room. Standing at the doorway, he laughs when he finds you sitting on the edge of the bed with a pillow pressed against your face, sniffling into it. “I’m not crying.” You say, muffled. Footsteps approach and next thing you know the pillow gets pried away from your fingers. Jungkook caresses your frowning face, cheeks streamed with tears and eyes fresh with new ones about to fall. “It’s just that there’s something in my eyes.” Jungkook laughs again, and lowers himself to press his lips against yours. “It’s okay to be sad.” Grabbing his hands, you shake your head in disagreement. “I don’t want to ruin our last day together.” He hates that those words came out of your mouth, that there is even something as a last day together. “Crying won’t ruin it.” He states, “Actually, not crying would be worse. What? Can’t wait for me to leave?” Laughter leaves your lips, calming his own strained heart while the sleeves of your shirt soak up lingering tears. “You’re an idiot.” You say lovingly, landing your head against his chest. The last week of pretending everything is fine has come to an end. Pushing this move to the back of your minds was the only way either of you could fully live in the moment. But now, reality’s bursting through the doors, claiming its right to your happiness. Every night, you secretly wished for Namjoon to barge through the front door just to announce that Jungkook wouldn’t need to leave after all, the case is settled, Jungkook’s safety not compromised. But that never happened. “One last day.” The words sting. Even more for him, you think, though he does a good job of masking it. It didn’t take a lot to convince Jaemin this time, though you think he might’ve developed a soft spot for Jungkook now, or maybe it was out of pity that he’s allowed one last outing. Your apartment welcomes Jungkook with a familiar scent of lavender mixed with a pot of hot cocoa steaming on the stove. After a brief greeting with Hana who then left for class, he climbs into the comfort of your soft, squeaky bed. While you drop your bag of clothes in the corner, Jungkook’s eyes find the now wilted flowers on your table by the window. Rolling to his feet, he gently touches one of the wilted petals with the pads of his fingers. But his attention quickly shifts to a framed couple photo, next to one of your friend group. Thumb grazing tenderly over your face, he feels like a rope’s tightened around his chest. At your touch, his shoulders drop, your arms snaking over his waist, pressing your body against him. “You can have it if you want.” He arranges it back in place, shaking his head. “I have plenty.” “Good,” his hands cup your face as he turns, “you won’t forget me then.” “Never.” He kisses you. “I’ll die before that happens.” You giggle, getting on your toes for another kiss. “Same.” 

⎼

“I can’t let you out.” The car slows down and comes to a stop by the street across campus. Jaemin looks apologetic. “I know.” Jungkook’s back faces you as his eyes stay locked on the scenes outside. Rolling the window down slightly, the hustle and bustle of the student body takes him back to boring lectures, laughing with friends, training sessions, lunch by the water fountain, the track field, walking to class with you. Leaving the first time was painful enough, but there was always a chance to return. This time, the future’s unpredictable enough to keep his expectations to a minimum. Getting into college was always something he yearned for, one of the only things he had spent years getting Kim to agree to. On the condition he would supply drugs from inside, Kim paid for his tuition, and that was one of the first times Jungkook felt he truly had a hold of his life. Now, it’s only something he can reminisce about. When your fingers slip between his, he squeezes tight. And as the car picks up speed, Jungkook bids a silent goodbye to his unfulfilled college dream. Eventually the building disappears in the rear view mirror, and he heaves out a loaded sigh. The frat house remains as Jungkook remembers it to be, just a little cleaner. Stepping into his room feels like nostalgia, like going back to his childhood room. An orange glow streams in from the window, specs of dust floating in the air. Most of his stuff now packed in boxes, thanks to you, leaves the room the neatest it’s ever been since he claimed it on day one, having fought Taehyung for it. Standing in the middle, slow steps as he takes it all in, Jungkook feels something tugging at his heartstrings. “Why is this so difficult…” He murmurs and you wipe the single tear that escaped. Sucking in a breath, he throws his head back to pull himself together. “This has been your place for the last few years, of course it’s going to be tough to let go.” You say gently, and he nods, running his palm over his cheek. Jungkook flips through a stack of notes on his desk, smiling as he recalls the late nights, stressing over assignments and other stuff that he didn’t bother with until he wanted to impress you with good grades. Organised by colour, his clothes hang neatly, just the way he likes them. Taking on a new identity also meant he’d have to dress completely differently, leaving him no choice but to let them go. Perhaps the other guys would want them. His attention shifts suddenly to the emptiness outside. “It’s so quiet.” Jaemin had contacted Hoseok prior, ensuring that none of the other guys would be around. Jungkook knew that, but it feels weird anyway; no clunking from the kitchen from someone messing up dinner, no screaming at the television over a game, no mindless chatter filling up the house. Things he didn’t think much of before, now he’s going to miss. Sitting quietly on his bed, you smile cautiously. You realise it’s best to let him feel what he needs to feel, to be able to come to terms with what’s happening. “What?” He asks, smile tugging on one side. 

“Nothing.” You shrug, clocking the wicked smile he has on. “You’re cute when you’re serious. Like a rabbit sensing danger.” Finger under your chin to guide you towards him, he leans in and speaks in the teasing way he does. “Who’s the rabbit and who’s the danger here?” “You’re the ra⎼” Trailing off, your voice was barely a whisper as he brings himself closer, pressing his lips into yours in a gentle kiss. One that causes butterflies in your tummy and has you gasping for more. “Cute.” He mocks you. Jungkook’s mischievous grin is one you’ve missed, bringing you back to the early days of your relationship. Not that there’s anything wrong with sweet boyfriend Jungkook, but his assertive self always kept you wanting more. “Remember the first time we⎼” “Yeah.” Amused at how quickly you respond, his knee finds a place between your thighs, forcing you to scoot back. “Wanna re-enact?” “Like…like roleplay?” His brows raise. “Didn’t know you were into that.” “You never asked.” You simply say, earning a huff of annoyance from him. Hands grip your thighs on each side. “So you casually bring it up the day before I leave. So mean.” You giggle as he lifts your bottom half to shift you in the right position. Losing your balance from the sudden movement, your elbows give in, head thumping against the lone pillow, causing a blast of dust flying everywhere. Coughing uncontrollably, he pushes the window open, waving his hands around. Your laughter fills the room, clutching your middle as he struggles to catch his breath. “Oops,” you say between giggles. Furrowed brows turn into a big grin as he breaks into laughter himself. “Well that ruined the mood.” “Did it?” Your pursed lips keep his attention, until your finger hooks over your collar, tugging the material down to expose your cleavage. “How about now?” “Oh⎼ oh yeah, it’s back⎼” He dives straight for the exposed skin, peppering kisses as you laugh, ringing melodiously in his ear. The sound is something he never wants to forget; his insides feel mushy, and tingly, and exhilarated. The feeling intensifies with the charming grin on your face. Your laughter slows down, nodding to question his change in demeanour. The air between you feels light, and the world around you disappears in that moment you let yourself sink into his tender gaze. “What?” You ask shyly. “Nothing.” He says in a whisper, like he’s in a daze. “Good to know some things don’t change.” 

Heads snapping to the side, Jungkook stiffens at the intruder only to sigh in exasperation. Shifting upright, he fixes his hair, directing his gaze to the carpet instead. “Do you ever mind your own business⎼” “Woah,” Jimin blinks, “deja vu.” “What are you even doing here?” “I live here.” At that moment, the old Jungkook comes back, clicking his tongue at the older one’s response. It only excites Jimin, having missed their constant back and forth. It’s just not the same annoying the others. “Feels like it was just yesterday when I walked in on you two lovebirds, and⎼” “And you still don’t have any boundaries.” Jungkook’s head tilt and raised brow doesn’t faze him, simply patting the younger one’s face, then pulling him in for a forced hug. “I’ve missed this!” “He misses it too, just too stubborn to show it.” He glares at you for the remark and you stick your tongue out at him. Jimin exhales obnoxiously, stepping back with hands on his hips. “Can’t wait for you to move back. Then it’ll be just like old times.” Jungkook stares back blankly, and Jimin doesn’t notice the lack of response, already looking through the packed boxes, planning to put things back to where they’re supposed to go. A couple of times, his mouth opens to say something, but he can’t utter a word. They would only be told tonight, Jungkook decided, despite Namjoon offering to do it early. The problem was that he didn’t know how to break the news. Hand on his shoulder to get his attention, you lean in to whisper, “Do you want to tell him?” Jimin continues to rummage through the boxes, taking it upon himself to remove some of the clothes you packed away. He rambles on about something neither of you are paying attention to. “I’ll do it with you.” You lace your fingers with his. Diverting his gaze to the carpet to think about it for a while, Jungkook then presses his lips into a line and nods in agreement. You nod encouragingly. “Jimin, there’s something you should know.”

⎼

The gentle breeze grazes over your skin, causing goosebumps to appear. It smells of fresh grass and earth, and a little hint of Jungkook’s cologne, with his jacket wrapped comfortably around your shoulders. Right by the river, a path stretches along its length, buzzing with cyclists, runners, and the public. Near the edge of the water, crowds of people sit on the steps, waiting for the light show display along a bridge which travels across the river. Higher up on a hill, far away from the masses, your thigh brushes against Jungkook’s, arm hooked around his and your head on his shoulder. Churro in hand, he brings the snack to you, humming as you take a bite. “That’s good, actually.” He agrees, taking a bite himself. “7 out of 10.” “Seven?” You tilt your head up. “This is an 8.5 at least.” “Still, it’s better than the ones you tried to make.” Licking sugar off his fingers, he ignores the way your jaw drops till you land a smack to his chest. You recall the time you decided to try making churros of your own, only end up charring most of them, and getting multiple burn marks from splattering oil. He, of course, had been there to treat your wounds while snickering at the fail. “You’re so mean.” Offering a kiss to your cheek as an apology, he reaches over the spread of food laid out before you on a picnic mat, grabbing your favourite mango pudding. Despite the pout, you welcome a spoonful of it and break into a shy smile as he looks on with a tender smile. “You know I love your terrible cooking.” He braces as your fist makes contact with his arm. “It’s not my fault you have expensive taste.” “I’m not sure wanting food to be edible is having expensive taste, but okay.” You can’t even fight the laughter that spills out, knowing exactly how terrible some of the things you make turn out. “When you get back, I’ll cook the best meal you’ve ever had, you’ll see!” Jungkook chuckles, a hopeful look in his eyes. “Can’t wait.” You lock eyes for a little longer, till the sounds of amazement and cheering float through the crowd below as the light show begins. Streaks of rainbow coloured lights shine up into the night, as water jets activate at the same time, with music playing in sync. It’s a show you’ve seen many times before, and every single time it amazes you. But this time, your attention towards Jungkook remains undivided. You tuck the stray hairs behind his ear. “It’s getting long.” He smiles at your comment while you continue to fix his hair. “Maybe I’ll grow it out.” “Long hair?” Your nose scrunches up. “I don’t see it.” “You might not even recognise me when I come back.” You tilt your head in the way he finds adorable. “I’ll more likely forget how to make ramyeon before I forget how you look like.” His brows furrow. “Odd thing to say considering you can’t even make instant noodles without drying out the soup too much.” You huff. “That was one time and I was distracted because you were parading around the house naked.” “Yeah, you like that huh?” “Oh shut up.” 

Jungkook’s laughter feels like a snug embrace, keeping you safe from the chaos of the world around you. His head drops to your lap and he welcomes your touch, tracing figures over his skin. “You’re so mean tonight. Giving my cooking so much flak.” “Oh baby, I love your cooking.” He sighs. “It reminds me that no matter how perfect someone is, they have to suck at one thing.” Yelping at the onslaught of pinches on his side, Jungkook flails about, reaching for your hand. Leaving the comfort of your thigh, he gets to his knees, now gripping both your wrists and sending a kiss to your scowl as he gets behind you, crossing your arms over your body. Back resting against him now, legs clipping you tight between him, he forcefully keeps you pressed against him, keeping your arms down. “You’re strong.”

“You’re annoying.” 

His cheek rests against your head, ignoring the squirming till you give up. “You laugh, but you’re gonna miss it.” “Yeah.” He says, a little calmer. “I will, actually.” With your back against his chest, you feel the thumping of his heart, comforting and calming. There’s a comfortable silence that falls around the two of you. “How…how long do you think it’ll take?” You ask the uncertain. “I don’t know.” He says, loosening his grip when you shift to get comfortable. “Trials usually take years to even proceed with.” “Years.” You echo it to yourself. You straighten up, so you can shift between his feet to face him slightly. He doesn’t let go of the chance to press his lips to your cheek. “Isn’t it unfair? We’ve only just got the chance to be together again…like normal people.” “I’ve never done long distance before.” You say, and you feel the shift of his head as he smiles. “What?” “Long distance.” You repeat. “That’s what we’re gonna be till you’re back.” Jungkook swells with confidence at this new way of putting it. “I like that.” You smile shyly. “Did you know that 60% of long distance relationships work out? The key is communication.” “Someone’s done their research.” Jungkook’s tickled by your sudden announcement. “You’re cute. Communication’s gonna be a little hard though.” “You’ll write to me, won’t you?” “Of course.” 

Sighing, you recall the rules Namjoon had gone through with you about communication. Strictly none allowed. But, he’s willing to allow letters. They’d have to go through them though, and will be read through before handing over to each of you. “I’ll write to you every month.” Jungkook says. “It’ll probably take weeks for it to reach you anyway, and to wait for you to respond.” “I’ll keep you updated on what’s going on here.” “There is a problem though.” “What?” You turn to him with his brows furrowed and deep in thought. He blinks. “How will you send nudes?” You shove his face, enough you send him flying back and he laughs, falling to the grass. “Irritating.” He jolts himself back up, peppering you with apology kisses and you accept them willingly, tilting your head enough for him to sneak down your neck as he sways your bodies side to side. “But you know I was thinking,” he kisses, “if you do want to press pause⎼” You freeze, wondering if you heard that right. “I’m just saying, we don’t know when I’ll be back. And I wouldn’t want to hold you back if you end up meeting someone that you think you’d hit it off with.” Jungkook looks at the back of your head, unmoving, and wonders if you were considering it. “Of course, I don’t want that. I love you but I also want you to be happy and if that means⎼” Your palm comes into contact with his cheek. It was a slap, but so gentle and soft that he wonders if it even happened. You do it again, more like a tap this time. “How could you say that? You think I could ever be happy with someone else?” “I don’t want to hold you back.” “Then you should’ve let me go before we got serious.” A little hurt flashes across his face. “After everything, you still think I’d rather be with someone else?” You say softly, caressing his cheeks, eyes softening with concern. “You’re my boyfriend. I love you. Only you.” He smiles just a little. “Sorry. It was just a suggestion.” “A terrible one.” You throw yourself into him, wrapping around his neck. “I can never be happy with anyone else but you.” “Really?” “You silly goose.” Jungkook visibly relaxes in your arms, feeling idiotic to have even brought that up. The night goes on as you lay there in each other’s arms, looking up at the night sky as opposed to the light show. Grey clouds inch towards where you are, slowly hiding the moon away from you. Jungkook stares at your side, taking in this view of you. When you do the same, Jungkook moves in to plant a kiss, savouring it till thunder starts to rumble above you. Just as you make it back to the car where Jaemin rests, it starts to drizzle. Jaemin turns in his seat, frowning when Jungkook pauses by the open door. He turns his back to the car and sees you standing a foot behind him with your palm up to the sky, letting the raindrops touch your skin. Stepping away from the car, standing before you, wet strands of hair sticks to his face. And as the rain gets heavier, the two of you seem to share the same thought. His hand clutches yours, giggling as the two of you make a run for it, ignoring the yells coming from the car. Back up the hill, in the open space, Jungkook and you dance and frolic around in the rain, laughing your hearts out gleefully. He lifts you in his arms, spinning you in circles as you extend your arms out, welcoming the rain as it washes all your sorrows away. He sets you down gently, and you brush the hair away from his face. “You make me so happy.” You say over the rain. “I love you more than anything.” “I love you too baby. You're my whole world.” Jungkook says, grabbing your hand in his. “I’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes.” Jungkook kisses you fervently in the rain, drenched and shivering, with nothing left to lose. 

⎼

Trees sway in the wind, and lighting flashes occasionally followed by the rumbling of thunder in the distance as the storm continues to pour down. The heavy rain caused a massive traffic jam below, but thankfully you managed to return before getting caught in it. In the comfort of the apartment, warm and dry, the lamp in the corner casts a dim orange hue perfect for a cozy night. Jungkook’s lips move gently against yours, knuckles grazing your cheek tenderly as his arm keeps you steady around the waist. Your hips sway against his, fueling the tent growing under his sweats. Lips slightly sore and swollen, his doe eyes stare into yours when you break the kiss, resting his head against the headboard behind. The bittersweet feeling of having to part from you, something he’d been suppressing, starts creeping into his heart, Finger tracing over his lips, his eyes fall shut as you go over his features; his eyes, nose, cheekbones, jaw. Your touch always does something to him, something so calming and natural about the way you move against him, even if it’s just the touch of a finger. The arm around you instinctively pulls you closer, just so your bodies meet, making it easier to capture you in another kiss, one much hungrier than before. Out of breath from his intensity, you pull away to calm yourself. But Jungkook doesn’t stop, pushing off from the headboard, leaning forward to press kisses to your cheek, trailing over your jaw and down to your neck. The moment he finds your sweet spot, your thighs squeeze around him in response and he hums against your skin when you start to rock your hips against him. His hands slide up your sides, tugging your camisole along with them up and over your head, exposing your bare breasts to the cool air. Rough hands cup them in his palm, thumb grazing over your erect nipples, and your body twitches at the sensation. You bite your bottom lip as he takes one of your tits in his mouth while kneading the other. When he takes a nipple between his teeth, your hip bucks in response, and he groans at the friction. Flips your positions, he now hovers above you, fitting nicely between your legs. His shirt comes off easily much to your delight, hands grazing over his chest. The dim light casts shadows over his body, giving him an ethereal glow. Jungkook grins at the obvious excitement in your expression, finding it absolutely adorable how you can’t hide the rise of your cheekbones, choosing to hide behind a tight-lipped smile. “You like that, huh?” His mouth hovers over yours, whispering against your lips while his hands snake down your body, and under your shorts.

You hum when his fingers fondle over your folds, and you return the favour, hand slipping past the hem of his sweats, exhaling at the sudden contact of your palm to his cock. Foreheads sticking to each other, Jungkook sucks in a breath as you rub against him. Two fingers slip inside you, and you lose all focus, gripping his cock, unmoving. Fingers slipping in and out of you keeps you distracted as you try to chase that high. The curve of his fingers hit the right spot each time, having memorised you well. Delighted at your response but protesting your lack of movement, he takes it upon himself and bucks his hips, fucking into your grip. Jungkook pauses, and your heart sinks at the loss. As he peels your hand off him, Jungkook tugs down your shorts, sucking in a breath at the glistening sight before him. Legs now spread before him, Jungkook slips four fingers into your dripping hole, cock twitching at the way you writhe. Sheets balled up in your fists, your chest heaves as you feel the rush of adrenaline flowing through you, and it only takes the thrilling sensation of Jungkook’s warm breath on your cunt, sucking on your clit, to have you seeing stars. Your sweet moans fill the room as you ride his face, bucking your hips wildly. Jungkook licks every last bit of your cum, giving your cunt a kiss before sliding up to let you taste yourself. Jungkook gets on his knees and you watch as he removes his sweats, cock springing up proudly against his abs. Finding the strength to sit up, crawling towards him, your doe eyes look up at him for permission. “Fuck.” He can never say no. Not when you look so pretty. Just at the sight of you, his cock starts to throb. It twitches the moment you start with a kiss to the base of his shaft. Taking your time, you plant sloppy kisses along his length till you get to the top. And the moment your mouth wraps around his tip, Jungkook’s body melts into the mattress, heat rushing through him, rewarding you with his sensual moans. He watches how his cock disappears into your mouth as you take in his entire length. Fingers wrap around your hair as he gently rocks his hips against you. He watches how his cock disappears into your mouth as you take the entirety of his length. His fingers wrap around your hair, as he gently moves his hips against you. “Oh baby⎼” A rush flows through his veins when you look up at him. Both hands now covering his length, twisting your wrists as you pump, your mouth pays special attention to his tip. His hips buck up in reflex, and you almost gag from the sudden movement, but recover quickly. A guttural sound escapes him and he pulls your head back, slowly removing himself from you, then tapping his cock against your tongue as his pre-cum leaks all over it. “Good girl.” He purrs, and his cock glistens as you lick every last bit of him. Sitting back, Jungkook lets you climb on top, positioning your entrance with his dick. With his hands on your hips, easing you down, your thighs tremble as his tip enters, letting out a sweet moan as you lower yourself down all the way. Jungkook doesn’t realise how he holds his breath as he watches you take all of him, and he lets you have a moment, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips when he sees the pure look of ecstasy on your face. As you start to move, he’s hypnotised by the sway of your hips, the bounce of your tits and the blissed out expression on your face. A goddess in his eyes, it forces him to sit up, sucking the skin against your collarbone. Palms on the bed to keep him steady, Jungkook leans back to watch the way you move, and you heat up under his gaze. 

He can’t keep his hands off you, running them across your soft skin, wanting to touch every inch of you and claim your body as his alone. Thrusting his hips up while you grind, reaching deeper each time, you gasp at every time he manages to hit the spot. A loud smack echoes as his palms land against your ass, and you yelp out in pain and pleasure, disrupting your flow as your hips twitch, and he growls at the feeling of your walls clenching around him. You giggle as you fall forward, struggling to stay up, using his chest to support you. He glows at the sound of your laughter, watching you hover over him with your faces barely touching. “Do it again.” As you say it with such innocence, yet sensual tone, Jungkook thinks he might go crazy. His arm wraps around your waist as he lands another smack, and you jump, bouncing down onto his cock, nails digging into his shoulders. “Like that?” You nod, embarrassed at the request and your body’s reaction. But Jungkook can’t get enough of it, the strangled whimpers you make as his palm meets the skin of your ass again, and again and again⎼ till you cry out, shaking as you cum, convulsing around his cock and he rolls his hips to let you ride it out, tenderly rubbing the sore spot on your ass. Warm, sticky liquid flows down his hard cock and you bite your lip bashfully. But it turns him on even more. Your back drops to the mattress, and the two of you are separated momentarily, till you feel him prodding against your entrance once again. Jungkook’s heart races when you smile at him, suddenly reminded of that ache in his chest. You gasp when he slides in, easily this time. Hands caging you in on each side, Jungkook brushes away the hairs sticking to your face as he starts with long and slow strokes, fully absorbed in the erotic sounds you make, with sensual eyes staring up at him. His pretty eyes sparkle above you, staring deep into yours, memorising every bit of detail. His gaze drops down to where your bodies connect, the gentle thrusts of his hips against yours, your hips rolling up in sync, where you become one with each other. The ache in his chest grows, threatening to spill out, and he doesn’t know what to do with it. But then you pull him in for a kiss, slow and intimate, lips melting with each other, and the ache manifests into something more familiar, the intense adoration he holds for you, wanting to worship your very being. You taste a hint of saltiness in the kiss, and then realise the stray tear fallen down his face. Your thumb caresses his cheek with concern, and he leans into your touch, whispering, “I love you.” It pierces deep into your soul, intoxicating you with thoughts of him and only him. A garden blooms in your chest, fueled by your feelings for him. Time seems to stop in that moment, and you drown in his eyes, choking on your love, heart pounding in your ears. Only you and Jungkook exist in this moment, souls tied together by an invisible string. He is yours. And you are his. Forever. Jungkook picks up the pace in his thrusts, and your legs wrap around him, allowing him to hit deeper. Skin sticking to each other, with your arms around his shoulders to keep him close, your bodies heat up, hearts beating against the other. Jungkook peppers kisses on your chest, mouthing against your nipples while you moan at every thrust. He starts to feel the clenching of your walls, groaning at the way it sucks his cock in every time. “Baby…” you whisper, hands on his chest. “Yeah?” He kisses the crook of your neck. “What is it, my love?” Overwhelmed by a wave of emotions, they rush through your body, tears forming in your eyes. Memories of your time with him come to mind. From the very first time you saw him at the cafe, your first kiss, to the time he took a bullet for you, and everything in between.

Jungkook captures your lips in a kiss, in an effort to soothe you, but it only adds fuel to the fire burning in the pit of your core. He picks up on it, pushing himself up to grab your hips, angling it in the way he knows would hit the spot that has your eyes rolling back. Pounding into you harder, a string of moans from you makes his dick twitch inside. The tension in his core tells him he’s close, and he digs into the flesh of your hips. You reach for him, and Jungkook presses your bodies together once again, maintaining his pace as he rolls his hips with yours. “Jungkook,” you murmur, breath hitching. Your mouth parts, and chest starts heaving, and he knows you’re close. You force your eyes open as you feel it coming, cupping the side of his face as tears stream down yours. “I love you too.” You gasp as the tension snaps, legs shaking around him and body shivering as you dig your nails into his shoulders, orgasm spilling out of you in waves. As you convulse around him, mixed with the lewd sounds coming out of you, you feel the throbbing of Jungkook’s cock, and seconds later with a strangled moan against your ear, Jungkook spurts warm liquid inside of you, mixing with your own cum. The sound of his breathing is all you can hear apart from the throbbing of your head, as he rests his head next to yours, body warm and heavy on top of you. Arms around his middle, you kiss his shoulders where you’d left marks from before. Jungkook’s disheveled hair, half-lidded eyes and silly smile greets you when he finally gets the energy to lift his head. Your body shivers as he removes himself, still sensitive to the touch. He lies down on his side, next to you, wiping the tear stains off your cheeks. Neither of you say a word, knowing all there is to say has been said. You press your head to his chest, listening to the sound of his heart, beating in rhythm with yours.

⎼

The storm carried on till morning, now simmered down to a drizzle, and the skies remain cloudy and gloomy. In the car, next to Jungkook, your head rests on his shoulder, hugging his arm with your fingers interlaced. Every now and then his hand would squeeze yours, grounding him in the moment. It’s a long drive, though you were thankful for the morning traffic, giving you a little extra time with him. Neither of you barely got any rest last night, just laying in each other’s arms, eventually dozing off close to sunrise. The car drives out of the city, onto a long stretch of a highway. It finally turns down an exit with minimal other cars going in the same direction, driving ahead where greenery slowly turns into open land, dry and deserted. The other cars drive past as the car slows down nearing a rest stop, pulling up into the parking lot, void of others. It’s the only building for miles and miles, a diner in the middle of nowhere. Jaemin lowers his window slightly, awaiting a thumbs up from the waitress through the side window of the diner, before pulling up into a slot. It must be their own people. While the rain had stopped as you left the city, the clouds seemed to have followed you here, gathering above and announcing their presence with the rumble of thunder. Droplets of water begin to race down the windows as it starts to rain again. “The others should be here soon.” Jaemin says, checking his phone. You look at Jungkook, smiling at him as you contemplate on saying your goodbye right here. He pulls you in a hug, nestling his head on your shoulder and memorising your scent. The act alone brings tears to your eyes, knowing it’ll be one of the last times you’ll be in his arms for a while. But you pull yourself together, “It’ll be okay.” You whisper, and he nods. Soon, two other cars enter the lot, five minutes apart. The door slides open and Namjoon steps out, nodding to the driver and Jaemin before sliding the door to your car. “Good morning.” He exhales, extending a hand out to Jungkook, helping him out. Two other agents stand beside them, holding up big black umbrellas, sheltering them from the rain. From the other car, Namjoon gestures towards the rest, and Jungkook sees the familiar faces of his friends, each happy to see him. Bracing himself, he swallows the lump in his throat, glancing back momentarily when he feels your touch on his back, encouraging him. 

“I’m kinda nervous but here goes,” he heaves out, looking around at the three of them. “Thanks for coming down to see me, I know this was super last minute, and I don't have much time, but I just wanted to say thank you for sticking around, and for being my friends, back then and now.” “Things have been crazy the last few months; I got shot, almost died, my girlfriend got kidnapped,” he shakes his head and the others chuckle, “it’s just been a lot, and I’m sorry for getting you guys involved in any way.” “As you’ve all heard, I'm gonna be away for some time.” He pauses when you sniff, sneaking a glance at you. “For how long, I don’t know. And unfortunately, it’ll be off the grid, so you won’t be able to reach me until I eventually come back. If I come back. We don’t know what the future will hold so⎼” Jungkook falters backwards when Hana rushes in for a hug, a tissue crumpled in her fist. “We’ll be waiting.” He wraps his arms around her shoulder, and she pulls away, dabbing the tissue against her eyes. “Take care, okay? Come back safe.” “Of course. Thanks Hana.” Jungkook sighs as he turns to you, tearing up after seeing her do the same. “I know she’s really stubborn and all, sorry I won’t be there to keep her in check, you’re just gonna have to deal with it I guess.” You land a punch on his back and they laugh. “Look after her for me?” “I definitely will.” There’s a sad smile on her face as she shakes his hand, before stepping to your side, rubbing a hand on your back. Jimin steps forward, lips quivering, the area around his eyes slightly red from crying. “My baby boy.” He says, cupping the side of Jungkook’s face. This time, Jungkook doesn’t even mind, smiling in response. “I’m gonna miss you so much.” His voice goes up an octave as he pulls Jungkook in for a hug, patting Jungkook’s head like he’s the one crying. “Me too, hyung.” Jungkook grins. “Gonna miss your constant barging into my personal space.” “I know you will.” He nods, making Jungkook laugh. “You take care. Eat well. Watch all those shows I’ve been asking you to.” “Sure.” “Don’t roll your eyes at me.” “I didn’t⎼” “You’re doing it right now.” Jungkook sucks in a breath, a familiar irritation brewing, something Jimin is an expert at bringing out. Jimin laughs at the glare he receives, messing up Jungkook’s hair. “Sorry. I just had to one last time before you go.” Jungkook visibly relaxes, laughing along with him, and extending his arms for another hug. Hoseok smiles where he stands watching them. When Jungkook turns to him next, he walks up to the younger boy and they face each other for a beat, neither knowing how to navigate this awkward situation. “Come on guys,” Namjoon motions for the rest to get inside, “let’s give them a moment.” When the door slides shut behind him, Hoseok shakes his head, “You idiot.” Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise, till he sees the smile growing  on Hoseok’s face. “You should’ve told us sooner.” “I didn’t know how to…” Jungkook shrugs, “It’s like I keep bringing everyone bad news.” “We care about you, you know that right?” Jungkook swallows a lump in his throat. Hearing that from Hoseok is something else. “I⎼” “Even if it is bad news, we’d want to know. So we can help you.” He smiles. “You’re not alone in this life, Jungkook. You have us.” Hands trembling, and failing to stop the tears from racing down his cheeks, Jungkook sniffs, wiping his face with his sleeve. Hoseok extends his hand and Jungkook takes it only to be pulled into a hug. It’s unnatural at first, until Hoseok pats his head. He gets the same feeling he got when they were talking on the roof; a hint of nostalgia, the same feeling he used to have as a child when he spent time with his sister. His body eases into Hoseok’s hold. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Stop that.” Hoseok orders, though he’s breaking out into tears as well. “I mean it. I caused a lot of trouble.” Jungkook sniffs. “Thanks for always looking out for me, and thinking of me. You’re…you’re the big brother I never had.” Hoseok’s grip tightens as the words come out of his mouth. He wishes there was more he could do, part of him still feeling guilty over how things went down between them. “Stupid Jungkook.” He giggles when he pulls away. Jungkook’s glossy eyes and red nose, and Hoseok’s tear stained face makes the other laugh. They wipe their faces bashfully. “You come back soon, okay?” Jungkook nods. “I have to ask you a favour.” Hoseok tilts his head in question. “While I’m gone, please look after her.” Jungkook glances back, though he can’t see you through the tinted windows. “She has a knack for getting into trouble. And if anyone, I think you’ll be able to keep her out of it. I trust you.” “Of course.” Hoseok grins. “But only while you’re away. After that, I’m gonna have to start charging for babysitting services.” Jungkook nods, chuckling. “But if you so much as try to make another move on her, just know that I’m gonna beat you up.” Hoseok laughs, and it’s the first time Jungkook thinks he’s ever heard his laugh, now realising how warm it makes him feel. “Don’t worry.” He takes a more serious tone. “Everything will be fine here, just know that we’ll all be waiting for your return.” “Thank you.” The rain starts to get heavier, and Jungkook gestures towards the car as he slides the door open. “You should get inside. It’s starting to really pour.” Namjoon and you exit the car as Hoseok slips inside. You grab hold of his hand as another car enters the lot, Namjoon with a knowing smile directed at you. “There’s someone else who needs to say goodbye.” Jungkook tilts his head adorably, rubbing his red nose. He eyes the car, which stops next to the ones you’re standing in between. Namjoon gets the door, bringing the umbrella along. Jungkook watches as he comes back around, with someone else walking closely next to him. His eyes go wide. Disregarding the rain, she runs right into Jungkook’s arms, hugging him tight. Still processing it, he tilts his head to make sure he’s seeing this right, before wrapping around her shoulders. “Mia! How’d you⎼” “I called her.” You say. “Told her everything.” “What the hell.” She slams her fist onto his chest, while still resting her head on him. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Jungkook chuckles. “About which part?” “Everything.” She says, pulling away, wiping her eyes. “Why did you carry that burden all by yourself? You should’ve told me. I could’ve helped you.” “I couldn’t put you at risk like that.” “Of course you couldn’t.” Jungkook touches the part of her head where a bandage is. He sighs. “I’m fine now.” “Of course you are.” He chuckles, an adoring look on his face. “I’m glad you’re okay. Now that we’re free, promise me you’ll get into college, and find a good, safe job.” Mia smiles though she struggles to keep her lips upturned. “I’ll try my best. When will you be back?” “Not sure. It’ll be a while.” Her shoulders slump in resignation. “Do you really have to go?” She turns to Namjoon who presses his lips into a thin line and shrugs. “I have to.” Jungkook sighs. “But don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.” “I know.” Mia nods. “I’m gonna miss you, boss.” “I’m not your boss now,” he raises his palms, “you’re on your own kid.” She giggles. “I’m gonna miss you. Thanks for always looking out for me. I owe you.” “No you don’t. Go live your life.” Jungkook pulls her in for another hug. “I’ll miss you too.”

As another car pulls up, the agents start moving around you. As Mia joins the others in the car, Namjoon gestures towards Jungkook, making your heart race, hands slipping into his, squeezing tight. “We’re ready.” He says, speaking to the both of you. “I’ll go with you about halfway. You’ll be handed over to Jaemin and the local handler after.” Jungkook nods, turning towards his friends. It feels surreal, looking at the four pairs of eyes watching him with a mixture of fondness, despair and solemness. “It’s time. I have to go now. I um, really enjoyed the dinner we had, and when I come back, I really hope we can do that again, if you guys like.” “We’ll hold you to that.” Hoseok says. Everyone wishes him their last goodbyes and hugs, and he looks at you, nodding. Hand in hand, you walk with him towards the car parked on the opposite side of the lot. While you have made peace with it, you can’t help the tears that stream down your face. Jungkook’s cold hands come up to the side of your face. “I’m sorry.” Shaking your head, your hands fix his jacket, pulling it tighter around him and placing your hands on his chest. “Is it too late to request for me to come with you?” His eyes crinkle at the corners. “I told you to get in my suitcase.” You laugh, and he gently grabs on to your hands, holding them up between you. Your finger brushes against the metal around one of his, a familiar ring which catches your attention. “Do you want your ring back?” “No,” you suck in a breath, pulling out the necklace with the ring he gave you, clutching it in your fist. “You said we’d exchange this when we’re free to be with each other.” “We are free to be together.” He grins, “Just very very far apart.” You shove him playfully. “Keep that. It’ll keep you safe. A piece of me to have with you.” “Baby, you’re always with me. In here.” He points to his heart and smile widens at the way your nose scrunches up. “Silly.” His laugh dies down eventually, and you can hear the time ticking, counting down to the exact moment you’d have to part. “You know how much you mean to me right?” Jungkook says, running his tongue over his lips that have suddenly gone dry. “As much as you mean to me.” You nod. His lips quiver, and you see that little boy from a small town, losing his sister, having to leave his family in pursuit of somewhere to call home. The scared little boy who only wanted somewhere he belonged. “I love you so much Jungkook.” You say, clutching his hands. “I love you too, Y/N.” With your arms wrapped around each other, you let the warm tears stream down your face. He tilts his head to kiss you, soft and gentle, melting his lips into yours. With one last look at you, he breaks away, leaving only your intertwined hands. Behind him, Namjoon stands with his back towards you, sheltering the two of you with an umbrella. He slides the door open, a cheerless smile on his face as he turns to you. Pressing his lips to your forehead, soothing the ache in your heart, and his, Jungkook’s hand slowly slips away from yours. The emptiness you already feel, physically and emotionally, takes the breath out of your lungs. Hana hugs you tight in the car, wiping the tear stains off your face. As you’re about to leave, your cars stop right next to each other just before exiting the rest stop, about to head in opposite directions. The windows roll down, both yours and his. Hair blowing in the wind, he flashes his charming smile, one that you've ingrained into your memory. I love you. He mouths. As the cars inch forward, turning into opposite directions, Jungkook blows you a kiss, and you to him.

From the rear window, his car carries on down the long road ahead, eventually disappearing from sight, dragging your heart along with it.

⎼

Hi my love, I hope you’re well! I’ve settled in nicely here. I wish I could tell you more but you-know-who’s looking over my shoulder right now, reminding me about the million things I should be careful about while writing this, and is annoying me to death. Other than that, it’s not too bad. Although I’m already missing you terribly. They say I’m gonna have to look for a job and I’m kinda nervous. I’ve never been to a job interview before. And I’d have to wear a tie! I think it’s ridiculous but you’d like that though, wouldn’t you? Miss you. Hope you’re eating well, staying warm and out of trouble. I hope everyone else is okay too. Please give them my regards, will you? I’ll talk to you soon. Love, J.K. P.S. send nudes.

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.

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taglist:

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[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 16

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 16/? 9k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Frustrated by inconclusive endings, Eddie takes a seat behind the wheel. 

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

✏︎ Chapter CW: general angst, paternal angst, drug mention

Thursday, December 12th 1985

Before the first morning bell, Eddie gave Judy at reception his best impression of Wayne over the phone. He wasn’t totally lying, he was in fact, quite sick. Sick of all the taunting looks from meathead jocks. Sick of the way Ms. O’Donnell cleared her throat every five minutes. Sick of waking up so goddamn early. Sick of wasting his time. So after hanging up the phone, he stuffed a few essentials in his backpack and made for the door. 

Like clockwork, Wayne always came home at around 8:10 AM, and though it would be far from the first time he’d skipped school, Eddie would rather not have to explain himself. Besides, he could use a change of scenery. There was no denying winter anymore, the ice he scraped off his windshield made sure to remind him. On a typical hooky day he would drive down to Lover’s Lake and toss open the rear doors, catch a breeze, light a joint, sit back and take in the ripples on the water and the rustling leaves. But that had all frozen over, so unless he intended to burn through his whole tank of gas, he would need to get creative. 

That was how he found himself at Benny’s at 7:58 on a Thursday morning, setting up camp in a booth at the back of the restaurant. He ordered his usual — bacon, scrambled eggs, and a stack of pancakes in addition to white toast. Tossing his fourth emptied sugar packet beside the leaning tower of creamers, he sat back in the sticky, padded seat and took his first deep breath all morning. 

The diner was bustling lowly, a handful of regulars perched on silver, spinning stools at the bar. From the frosted window leeching cool air beside him, he watched the funeral procession of headlights down Washington under a mournful sky. Just another day for the upright citizens of Hawkins, Indiana. From his cozy booth, Eddie sipped the top off his very full mug and smiled to himself. 

Sprawling his belongings around the piping hot plates, he popped on his headphones, cracked open his monster manual, and got to work. The first hour flew by like his pencil across the graph paper. Between the bacon bits that had leapt from hand to page, a formidable lineup of foes was taking shape. Bottom line; the boys were in for a world of hurt tomorrow. He did his best to resign the grease to the flimsy napkins, but by the time he was finished, syrup tacked the gargoyle and gorgon pages together. 

“Anything else I can grab for ya besides the check?” Sheri—according to her name tag—asked with a tired lean as she reached to clear his plates. 

Eddie glanced down sheepishly at his freshly topped off mug. “I uh, think I might be staying for lunch.”

Sheri forced a hot pink smile, catching the fork with her decorated finger when it threatened to slide off the plate. “Y’ want me to get a room set up for you too?” she joked with a wink of her spidery lashes. “Just teasin’ sweetie. You just flag me down when you’re ready.”

Switching out his tapes, Eddie shut the cassette player and stared out the window as the men at the bar tossed their napkins and fished out their wallets. Snow was falling in lazy clumps, clinging to his windshield. Somewhere behind the overcast clouds, the sun was rising steadily. It was dismal, a fitting backdrop for the opening track of Black Sabbath’s Heaven and Hell. Of all the seasons, winter belonged to metal. Like it was made for cruising down a quiet, snow-covered street in the middle of nowhere. Made for drowning out Bing Crosby crooning from the speaker in the corner above him. Tinsel glittered on the small tree perched on a cloud of fake snow beside the cash register. Ornaments on swags swayed to the thump of footsteps passing. Eddie sighed and stared into the changing street lights.

Glancing at his watch he figured you were probably wrapping up the film with second period, knitting your brow and drawing your pen across the papers you were grading. He wondered what you’d think when the bell rang for fourth and you found his seat empty. Would you think he was upset with you? There was a small part of him that hoped so, and another part that hoped you would understand. After all, he was giving you the space you asked for, was he not?

Like a siren, your story—tucked between his notebook and the magazines he’d exhausted twice cover to cover—called to him. Cracking open the plastic spine, he dove headfirst into the typewritten pages.

For the whole narrow path into Rower’s End, Cybelle had sat in the front of the caravan, breathing the briny air unhindered by a barrier. Lazarus admired the brilliant fullness of her smile as she watched the seagulls soar overhead, under the clouds she had only ever seen from above. The sunlight had graced them then, beaming down in golden rays, glinting on the distant waves as they approached the sleepy seaside town. 

Eddie could feel the corners of his mouth tug as Lazarus regaled Cybelle with a story of a time when he’d accidentally taken a crab home with him after spending a day at the beach, followed by an explanation of what a crab was. Cybelle seemed delighted with the prospect of seeing one, even more-so when he told her how he’d discovered the little hitchhiker when it pinched his rear in bed that night. Eddie noticed the way Cybelle leaned closer whenever Lazarus told stories, the way her hand came to shield her bare face with a giggle when he mentioned his rear. The way her delicate, copper fingers lingered over the soft skin of his forearm when she checked beneath his bandage. The wound was healing nicely — no sign of infection and not a thorn in sight. She warned that it might scar, but Lazarus did not appear concerned—rather the opposite actually—as if a strange part of him was pleased with the idea of having something to remember her by. 

As they dipped over the final hill toward Rower’s End, Lazarus told her another story. A dream, rather, of a little cottage in Shantiglade with a full sized bed, and a garden, and a goose egg omelette big enough for two. A dream that would likely never come to pass. Cybelle seemed equally enchanted by it. Sitting back against the boxy, wooden seat of the caravan, she breathed in the salty air and imagined how good it would feel to do so every day. To experience the feeling of sand between her toes, of the ocean at her ankles, of propping her elbow against their shared kitchen table and gracing Lazarus with a naked smile before trying whatever an omelette was. It was good like this too — bumping along under a clear blue sky as Turnip plodded down the scarcely trodded path, watching the wind caress the wild grass and Lazarus’ even wilder curls, hearing his tales and his laughter.

Around the time he would be slumping into his desk in the back of your classroom, the bell dinged over the door of the restaurant. Eddie cranked the volume on his headset to drown out the chatter of a family of four clambering into the booth in front of him. The little boy had brought a pair of plastic drumsticks with him, beating a rhythm on the steel-rimmed table much to the annoyance of his little sister, who was clutching her book the way Eddie was yours. Dipping his few remaining fries into the smear of ketchup, he wondered why they weren’t in school on a Thursday afternoon. As he focused back on the type-written letters, he figured he should be the last to judge. 

Eddie felt for Lazarus, he really did. The way he looked at Cybelle as she emerged from the cave, cradling the ghostfern like a pale, translucent child. The scene was as beautiful as it was somber — waves lapping at the rocky shoreline as the setting sun cast its deep orange hues on both of them. The rocks—slick with algae—had Cybelle stumbling, but Lazarus was quick to offer his arm. She accepted without hesitance, clutching the plant like a bouquet as her deep earthen fingers braced the pale angles of his. He lead her down the cascading stone as if it were a chapel aisle, slow and steady until they reached the flat edge of the water. There—in the golden remains of the day—seagulls dipped and soared over the glittering ocean, clasped hands swayed in the lapping wind, and for a moment, they had everything they came for.  

After what seemed like both a small eternity and an aching second, it was Cybelle who broke away, tracing the ridges of his fingers as hers fell, stating out loud what both of them knew — that night was coming soon. 

The journey back to Torgaard proved easier than the journey out, at least in terms of natural foes. No fenfinks or villainous vines, but the sky seemed to hang much lower. Dark, stormy clouds loomed overhead, casting its pale grey light over the moss curtains outside of Fenwood, over the verdant  forests that shuddered in the gusting wind. There was a tension, a dread looming on the horizon that grew with each passing day. Even Eddie could sense it — the way Cybelle stared out into the swath of shifting green like she was attempting to soak up enough for the rest of her life. The way that Lazarus’ jokes were swallowed the creaking of the caravan. How nights that were once spent laughing over a roaring fire were now spent silently watching its crackling embers.

One day—just a few outside of Torgaard—the sky came crashing down. It sobbed in sheets, heavy enough to soak through Cybelle’s coat, to find the tear in her tent and make a lake of it. Lazarus ushered her inside the wagon, offered her a shirt that fit like a dress, offered to sleep on the floor. Assessing the size of the bed, and then the hard, narrow walking path, it was Cybelle who insisted they share it. She was small enough, or at least that was what she rationalized out loud. Lazarus did not argue. Her logic—unlike her tent—was water-tight. And so she climbed in between the soft linen sheets, tucked herself under the weight of the down blanket, and rested her damp, weary head on a pillow that smelled just like him.

Eddie glanced sheepishly around the restaurant, shielding the binder with his arm as Lazarus climbed in beside her. He hinged on each type-written word, lingering over the ones that stirred a fuzzy feeling. Written with careful attention to the way Lazarus’ chest rose and fell, how stiff their bodies were in hyper-awareness of the nearness to each other. How solid his shoulder felt under Cybelle’s cheek when the corner of pillow no longer sufficed. Slowly, they relaxed into the feeling. Not enough to sleep, but enough for Lazarus to free the arm that she was crushing. Enough to wrap it around her shoulder, to relish in the feeling of her cold nose in the warm crook of his neck.

It was good like this. Better when her fingers draped across the landscape of his pecks, felt his chest rise and fall like waves. Best when they awoke in the morning to the sun steaming in through the small, stained glass window above them. When their giggles shook the wagon. When their eyes met, closer than they’d ever been before. There, in the dim cocoon far outside the turning world, the smile that she had hidden for so long finally grew brave enough to capture his. And by the time they reached the towering stone walls of Torgaard, there was nothing more to hide from one another. 

Eddie flipped the page to find only a black, plastic pocket. He rubbed it with his fingers to make sure it wasn’t sticking to another. When it failed to separate, he sat back and fumed. That was it. There was no more. No ending, no closure.

Sheri leaned against the top of the booth seat opposite him, hand on her hip, shifting between her dirty white sneakers with a tired sigh. “Listen sweetie, I’ve got ten minutes left of my shift. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, but I’ve gotta cash you out before I leave.”

Eddie glanced at his watch, almost 2:00. “Yeah—yeah, no problem. Sorry for the trouble.”

“’S no trouble, just the way it goes around here. Hope you enjoyed your stay,” she said with a wink as she dropped the check. 

After six hours and two meals, Eddie had gotten his fill of watching the world turn through an old, frosted window. His head was spinning enough on its own. With a frustrated huff he peeled his graph paper and manual away from the sticky table before shoving them into his backpack. Slugging it over his shoulder, he grabbed the grease-stained check and made his way to the register. That was when he noticed it — the lonely, half-eaten omelette on the bar.

“Alright that’ll be ten seventy-five,” chimed Sheri. 

Tinsel glittered on the tree. Red, metallic bulbs swayed in the echo of his footsteps. Judy Garland caroled on about a merry little Christmas and he wondered if your characters would ever enjoy anything over their shared kitchen table or if that dream would be abandoned for their duties as well.

“Sir?”

Snapping out of his trance, he fished for his wallet and palmed her a twenty. “Keep the change,” he muttered before turning toward the door with a hoist of his backpack.

Her jaw hung open. “Oh my word, are you serious?” she called to his back, but the bell above the door was the only answer she received.

______

Main Street Vinyls was a ghost town on a Thursday afternoon, and Eddie preferred it that way. Aside from Jerry at the counter, it was just him and his noisy thoughts, accompanied by the slow plod of his own heavy boots as they weeped against the carpet. At least in this store he could escape the onslaught of Christmas tunes. Jerry—old hippie that he was—at least had some sense. Sometimes even sense enough to play some halfway decent rock music, but today Eddie would settle for Neil Young over the jingle bell garbage blasting through every speaker in Hawkins.

Glancing down the rows of plastic cassette spines, Eddie perused the M section as he kicked himself for giving away almost ten dollars. There was an album by a new band he’d only read about in magazines called Megadeth. Turning the tape over in his hands, he examined the cover. Everything about it spoke to him — the skull with its mouth chained shut surrounded by knives and candles, the title — Killing Is My Business. Flipping it over to the back, the phrase continued in haunted red letters …and Business Is Good! 

The change he gave away in a fit of blind stupidity would have easily afforded it and left him with some to spare. With a bitter sigh, he shoved the tape back in its slot, knowing for a fact that the cash register at Benny’s had eaten the last bill he had in his wallet. Padding slowly down the aisle, he began his calculations. 

He had a few regular deals lined up this weekend but would need to dig into his “savings” in the bottom of an old tobacco tin and pay Rick a visit before any of that happened. He might make eighty bucks if he was lucky. Maybe eighty more over the course of the week between the deals at school. Nobody wanted to spend too much time outside this time of year, so the park bench location was always iffy depending on how bad it was. He would resort to other classic meetup spots, like under the bleachers or the back of his van. 

If he networked enough he might have some left over after helping Wayne with the bills. Scanning past the Tina Turner and T-Rex tapes, he wondered how much Wayne suspected about his little business. Surely he had to have some suspicion. Gig money, odd jobs, and oil changes for neighbors couldn’t possibly afford the kind of gear he had, or the ink in his skin, or the cash he contributed monthly. Wayne was sharp, and though he was no saint himself, he shuddered to think what he would say if he discovered his nephew was straying down the same path his brother took.

Peering back over his shoulder, he eyed the Megadeth tapes again—only three in stock—lined up like gifts wrapped in cellophane. They were such tiny things. Small enough to hide beneath his palm, to slide into the pocket of his coat with room to spare. Glancing up at the angled surveillance mirror in the corner of the store, he saw Jerry at the counter, humming obliviously as he stuck price tags on a fresh shipment of tapes. Over the tall shelf that separated them, he expected to meet his own eyes, but instead saw another man. A man he hadn’t seen in quite a while.

Eddie remembered finding a G chord for the first time; how big the fretboard felt in his small hand, how awkwardly his fingers had to stretch, how a larger set of hands had helped him find it. He earned a broad smile when the chord rang out, one he would search for again and again with every strum. 

Sometimes in the late evenings as he crept past Wayne with a lunchbox full of drugs while he was watching reruns of Bonanza on the couch, Eddie would tell himself that at least he wasn’t stealing cars, or drinking himself half to death, or rotting behind county bars. At least he was still in school, something Warren Munson couldn’t say even at sixteen. At least Eddie could say he was trying.

With a bitter shake of his head, he continued down the aisle, leaving the tapes behind for the record bins that lined the walls. Mindlessly he walked his fingers over the cardboard spines, glazing past titles he’d seen a dozen times. Nothing new. Nothing different. Few things ever were in Hawkins. Every day he’d wake up and slog himself to a different type of prison, sit in a classroom for eight hours and actively feel his brain rotting. He would crumple up his failed tests and shove them in his backpack, endure the stares from kids whose parents cared enough to give them a ride to school, day after day. And every day he would come home and see the twinge of pride on Wayne’s face for the fact that he’d gone at all.  

There were a few perks to sticking around, like running his club, and saving lost sheep, and seeing his friends everyday. Like having a swath of potential customers all in one place. It was safe and familiar, like a cage. His little business might be dangerous and criminal but at least it could afford him one thing he valued even more than ink or gear — freedom. Time, for another thing. Flexibility. It sure as hell beat making three dollars an hour flipping burgers or having to answer to some corporate boot-licker telling him what to do. Eddie huffed sharply, wondering what you would think if you knew. You, with your tightly buttoned blouses and endless patience. You, the very last person he wanted to disappoint. 

The last look he’d seen on you destroyed him when he thought about it; the pain in your eyes and bitter line your pretty lips became. You were just about the only reason he had left to show up to class anymore, and now that was getting in the way of the one thing that actually had potential in his eyes. Way more potential than a stupid piece of paper that says, congratulations, you’re a real member of society and not a complete disappointment. 

You had asked him a question back when you’d first made the arrangement to help him, one that rattled around in his brain ever since. Why did he want to graduate? If his memory served him, he’d given a relatively bullshit answer: to prove all the assholes in this god-forsaken purgatory wrong. It still held a fair amount of truth, but when he glanced up at the surveillance mirror again and saw himself this time, the real answer was abundantly clear. But was proving a point worth the risk of losing you?  

The smell of cardboard and cellophane kissed his face as air puffed between each record falling forward. Each a different picture, some repeats of the same. Rock gods wielding wicked weapons, bathed in holy stage lights somewhere in New York or Los Angeles probably. Somewhere important. Sometimes at the Hideout he would close his eyes and imagine he was on one of those stages, but when he would open them as the last note rung out, it was always the same — just Bill and Drunk Sam, maybe a couple of bikers perched at the bar with their backs to him. Empty stools and sticky tables. A weak applause.

Eddie stepped back from the record bin with a heavy sigh and glanced at his watch. He’d killed about thirty minutes in this store, which meant he had at least twenty more before he could return home without triggering Wayne’s suspicious questions. The walls were starting to close in around him — posters like windows into a world far out of reach. Every million dollar strum reverberating through the speakers like a mocking reminder. With a half-hearted wave to Jerry stocking shelves, he left the store. Empty handed. 

The drive down Randolph was always dismal, especially in the bleak winter light. Storefronts with yellowing signs that hadn’t changed in twenty years selling mattresses and televisions. A gas station with a rusted awning, dusted with snow. Architecturally speaking, the church was about the most interesting building, but only because it was brick and made up of more than just four flimsy walls. Even that was being generous though. The most exciting thing to happen to Hawkins since the housing development over by Factory Lane thirty years ago was the shopping mall that opened this past summer. Thrilling. 

No matter where he drove within a fifty mile radius, it was all the same — a tomb where dreams went to die. 

Gripping the steering wheel, he watched the car in front of him make grooves in the dirty slush, hypnotized by the spray off the sides of the tires. It wasn’t until he saw the high school approaching in his peripherals that he even looked up. It always felt good to be on the other side, especially when he wasn’t supposed to be. He could almost see you in there; brushing the chalk off your hands, shifting between your tired feet as you glanced at the clock, gazing out the window with a longing he’d seen in his own reflection — caught sometimes at night in his drivers seat window as he cruised the highway, dreaming of where it could take him. 

As the squat fortress faded in his rearview mirror, he pictured you five years from now. Ten. Twenty. Wasting away in front of that chalkboard. Rattling on about stories written by dead people while your own collected dust inside a closet. While your talent withered like the dead, crumpled leaves under the snow; buried and forgotten. 

With a hard right onto Prospect, he set out on the final stretch towards home. Sometimes he liked to imagine what might happen if he just kept going, just drove into the sunset and only stopped for gas. He had a vague idea from the movies and the maps that swayed in the wake of Ms. O’Donnell’s lumbering footsteps. Sometimes in the height of his boredom he would lose himself in them, imagine he was at a diner in the desert on his way to a gig with an actual sound system. Because somewhere out there—beyond the flat horizon—there were mountains, and canyons, and cities where names couldn’t follow. 

______

“How does it end?” Eddie asked you on Friday between the fourth and fifth period bells. You glanced up from the stack of papers on your desk, cocking your head with narrowing eyes. “Your story,” he clarified.

“Oh.” Blinking, you sat back to ponder. “You know, I don’t think I ever fully decided. Cybelle is in a difficult position. The whole reason she set out on this adventure was to save her brother. I imagine she would want to fulfill her quest, but if she returned to Myrne, it may be difficult to leave again. Plus, she may receive some sort of punishment for leaving in the first place. I had written the laws to be quite strict, if I recall. And then if she chose not to return, her mother would lose two children. No matter what, she loses.” 

Eddie furrowed his brow, shifting between his boots with a pained sigh. “I would hardly call a life with Lazarus losing. She seems happy with him.”

“Right, well, of course that would be ideal, but…” you tsked, “it’s complicated, and honestly that’s partially why I abandoned it. I really wrote myself into a corner. Well, that and student teaching started to eat up my time. Then it was finals, and moving, and then after that I met…” you trailed off with a bitter shake of your head. “Anyway, I guess life got in the way. It has a way of doing that, I’ve noticed.” 

Eddie looked at you, really looked. You, in your cable knit sweater with pen on your hand and sandbags under your eyes, casting them down over your work with the same amount of hope he’d seen from players rolling threes with even fewer hit points to spare. He racked his brain for something he could offer—a dramatic death speech or a new character sheet—but you weren’t playing and he wasn’t prepared. Any words of comfort forming on the tip of his tongue were swallowed by the ringing bell, and he exited your classroom feeling the same as when he entered; unsatisfied. 

______

It was starting to close in around you — the colored lights and ornaments, the mall Santas and fake green swags draping from shop windows. It was the first Christmas you’d truly spent in Hawkins since you graduated college, outside of day trips for visits. Surprisingly little had changed, the main thing being the fact that there even was a mall for Santa to post up in. Duplication must have been one of his many powers because he was still at Sears too, at least he was on Saturday when you dragged yourself out of the oppressive quiet of your apartment and into the bustling chaos. 

You had no idea what to get your relatives for Christmas. You never really did, but this year it seemed insurmountable. This year you had no one to bounce ideas off of, and the constant mental chatter left little to no room for inspiration. As you scanned the shelves of cookware and appliquéd dish towels with snow men and reindeers, nothing really seemed to jump out at you.

What did jump out at you—or rather, jumped out at his sister—was a little boy across the aisle hiding in a circular rack of women’s bath robes. Pressing apart the terrycloth like curtains, he would retreat into his makeshift cave to the complete oblivion of his mother, who seemed more preoccupied with the price tags on a set of lingerie than with the whereabouts of her children.

A fantasy tugged at the corners of your mind, more sinfully indulgent than the one you had in class last week involving your desk and Eddie’s tongue. This time the set was the same as the scene before you, only the little boy had a mess of dark curls and Eddie was diving in after him. Not to scold him, but to play. You could almost see those fraying knee holes widening from contact with the carpet. Almost hear the giggles and the shushes and the click of his rings against the metal pole in the center of the rack for balance. You could almost turn around and see them popping out at you, feel the laughter ripple up through your very full belly and into the corners of your eyes as you feigned surprise to both of their delight. You could almost feel the glares from the other shoppers, the regular people eager to get on with their Saturday in peace, same as any other. It wouldn’t matter though, not in your little world.

The real mother in the real world did eventually turn around, grabbing the boy by the wrist and demanding he stay by the cart. Turning a dish towel over in your palms, you lowered your eyes to the machine-embroidered stitching of a corn cob pipe and a button nose as the fantasy disintegrated. You left the store shortly after, your cart just as empty as when you’d arrived. 

On Monday it was hard to look him in the eyes. It was easier to meet Diane’s. At least this week you could hold a conversation without crumbling like Ms. Click’s half-eaten fruitcake up for grabs in the teachers lounge. But the coffee was bitter on your tongue, like a lie you were telling yourself. 

In accordance with your wishes, there had been no rap of knuckles on your door frame after school, no screeching of chair legs dragged across the tile, only the dull thud of folders sliding into your bag, the surprising click of a magnet under the flap. 

On Wednesday you left behind footprints in the parking lot before it had even half cleared, only to be swallowed by the emptiness of your apartment. You filled the space with what you could manage — an early dinner, and an early bedtime. Sleep seemed to be the only thing that quelled the battering ram thoughts, the scales tipping back and forth so much it made you queasy. You would lie there and dream of swirling smoke and plush lips, of arthritic fingers punching numbers on an office phone as you sat and accepted your fate. You would toss and turn, back and forth until your sheets became a tangle, and when you faced the mirror Thursday morning you barely recognized the person staring back. 

When the final bell rang on Friday, the hallways cleared out like someone had yelled fire. A mass exodus of students and staff, flowing into the parking lot like a tidal wave outside your classroom window. You watched them as snow fell in clumps, as bright colored backpacks disappeared into the back of sedans, as cars peeled out like a parade into the street. 

Assessing the paper mountain range framing your desk, you made an educated guess at how you would be spending your two week break. In hindsight, it might have helped to make the due date for the senior creative writing project last Friday instead, but deep down you knew you would have hardly made a dent by now. 

When Ms. Click popped her head in to wish you a merry Christmas on her way down the hall, she seemed surprised to find your hand still moving across paper, not swaddled in mittens like hers. You brushed it off with something casual, the type of thing any regular person would say before the holidays. That it was too much to take home. That getting work finished now would leave more time with your family. You omitted the more personal details like how empty your apartment felt and the small, naked tree your mother brought over last weekend. This seemed to placate her, and with a cheery wave she left you in the silence of your classroom with only the ruffling of paper for company.

It was eery how quiet it was, but it afforded you a small hill of graded papers in the last hour, double what you would typically accomplish in front of the television. Thumbing through what remained of that stack, you counted each staple. Five, six, seven… you stopped when a certain name jumped out in MLA format. 

Eddie Munson American Literature — 4th Period 20 December 1985

No title. 

Papers fluttered to the desk as they fell from your hands, leaving only his. You held it gingerly between your fingers, as if it was alive. As if it could feel you, or rather, you could feel him through every type-written letter, through the thumb-sized grease stain in the top righthand corner. You could almost hear him too, shifting into a deep, dramatic narration.

Mount Myrne loomed on the horizon like a dark omen. Towering over the bustling docks of Torgaard, it disappeared beneath the ominous clouds with a formidable presence. Merchants scattered about, hauling their wares in heavy crates and barrels onto the many zeppelins. 

This was where Lazarus first met Cybelle. In his mind’s eye he could almost see her stumbling about in her clean silk boots and glimmering gold coat. But her appearance today told a different tale. Her boots were caked with mud, her coat was splattered with muck and tattered by claws, her mask hung crooked on her face. Those large eyes that once glimmered with hope and wonder now stared off into the distance with oppressive sadness at the looming mountain. 

This was where he was supposed to leave her. This was what they had agreed upon many moons ago. Cybelle just stood there, shifting back and forth between her tired feet as she dug her thumbs under the straps of her heavy knapsack that now held the rare and precious ghostfern. She finally had what she came for. Any moment now she would be moving those muddy boots toward the docks and use what little coin she had to barter a one-way trip back home.

That was the plan anyway..

Cybelle was frozen though. Fearfully, woefully, bitterly, she gazed upon her gold gleaming home in the sky with a sadness that was only dwarfed by Lazarus looking down at her. He looked at her beautiful face like it was the last time he was ever going to get the chance to. He memorized it in his mind as he shuffled his own dirty boots against the cobblestone. He didn’t have eyes for anything else. Not the zeppelins, nor the merchants, nor the mountain. Only her. After a moment that felt like an eon, Cybelle took a step forward.

“Wait.” said Lazarus. Cybelle turned around with surprise but also a hint of relief. “You don’t have to do this.”

Cybelle looked up at him with a mournful frown. “Of course I do, my brother will die if I stay here.”

Lazarus shook his head bitterly. “No, he will die if the ghostfern stays here.” he said.

Cybelle sighed as she looked out across the docks, “But how is it going to get there if I do not deliver it? No one is allowed within the city walls if they are not from Myrne.”

Lazarus furrowed his brow as he watched the merchants at work, hauling their wares aboard the large, formidable aircrafts. Suddenly he had an idea. “There are docks in Myrne, correct? And Myrnish merchants who take goods into the city?”

The gears were starting to turn in Cybelle’s head. “Yes, there are.”

“Well then, can we send the plant with like, a note or something? Some instructions and directions for the merchant to take where it needs to go?”

Cybelle thought for a moment. “I do know a few of the merchants by name. Arturo and I grew up together. He was my neighbor for a long time. He would know where it needs to go, and my mother would know what to do with it.” The brightness in Cybelle’s eyes dimmed suddenly as she had another thought. “But… I would never seen them again. My family.”

“Never say never, Cybelle.” Lazarus said. “Do you know that for a fact?”

Cybelle frowned heavily, “The laws in Myrne are very strict.”

“What if in the letter you told your family to meet you on the docks some other time? Perhaps in another moon or two once your brother has recovered?” Lazarus offered.

Cybelle sighed bitterly, “Only merchants are allowed on the docks. It is strictly prohibited. I was only able to come here because I snuck inside a crate. It was a miracle that they didn’t notice me.”

Lazarus kicked a stray pebble and huffed. There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I cannot tell you what to do, Cybelle. Only you can make that choice. But what I can do, really the only thing I can do, is tell you how I feel.” 

All of a sudden there was a knot in his stomach. Because if he was going to say anything he knew that this would be his last chance.. 

“All my life I’ve dreamed about that cottage by the sea with the garden, and the bed, and the omlet. When I saw that pendant you were wearing I knew that it would be my only shot at ever getting what I wanted. Magic tricks are….. not exactly lucrative. And actually, if I’m going to be totally honest here, I figure you should know the truth about me. The whole truth.” Lazarus sighed, swallowing the bile creeping up his throat at the mention of the truth. He was going to be honest though. Maybe for once in his whole life. “This is difficult for me to say, but I owe it to you if nothing else. I’m a thief, Cybelle.” 

Lazarus winced at his own words and Cybelle’s fallen expression, but he bravely continued..

“I confess that for a moment when I first saw you I thought about stealing that pendant, but once I heard your story and saw so much of my own I simply couldn’t. There is a goodness in you that I admire, how selfless and pure your cause is. Over the course of the last few moons I have had the privilege of spending with you, I have come to discover how beautiful the woman beneath the mask truly is. How kind, and curious, and patient you are. I have been all over this land. Traveled far and wide, through forests and over mountains. I have swam in lakes and oceans and gazed out over countless valleys. But never has the world looked quite so hopeful than when I saw it through your eyes. It made me believe that if you could see the beauty there, if you could see the goodness in me, then perhaps I can as well.”

It was startling — the tear that leapt over your lash line. Violently enough to hit the page, to blur the Os in goodness. 

“If you choose to stay I promise you that I will never steal another coin or pocket watch. It may leave me poor for the rest of my days but if they’re spent with you, then I would be the richest man of all. It is all that I can offer you. My honesty, and a promise that I will show you more beaches, more mountains, more of the world than you could ever imagine. And since I intend to keep my promise, here is my honesty: I love you. Regardless of what you decide.” 

With a trembling hand, you turned the page only to discover there was nothing on the back. Sitting back in your seat with a ragged sigh, you stared out into your empty classroom. Your nose stung, fluorescents flaring in your tear-blurred vision. Separating the pages with your thumb, you flipped back and read it again. The last paragraph. The last two sentences. Those three type-written words. Over and over, wedging in the cracks of your armor as your sniffles echoed off the tile. 

The sun was dipping below the treeline, flooding the near-empty parking lot with a wash of somber pink. The snowfall had ceased, settled into the footprints and tire tracks. Glancing up at the clock and back down at the papers, you tried to imagine lifting another, scanning over sentences and writing in the margins like you hadn’t been completely upended by the one that trembled in your grasp. You couldn’t. 

Tears dripped down your cheeks as you donned your coat, as you shuffled overstuffed folders into your satchel and slung its weight over your shoulder. You swiped at them with your scratchy wool sleeve, flicking off the lights and shutting the door.

The soft pink had cooled to twilight blue when your boots met the blanket of snow, leaving tracks in the clean, fresh powder. Your breath trailed behind you in heavy clouds. It was quiet here too, barely a scattering of cars in the parking lot. Not even the wind disturbed the limbs of the orderly saplings between the curb and sidewalk, dusted with a glittering powder. 

Your hands found your keys, and the key found the hole, and soon you were sliding into your frigid leather seat, tossing the weight of your satchel on the passenger’s side with a dejected thump. You sat there a moment with only your breath for company before flicking your wrist at the ignition. 

Nothing.

Stomping on the break, you lurched forward with conviction this time, as if you could convince it you were serious. All it awarded you was a weak, persistent click. It’s fine, you told yourself through gritted teeth as you lunged again, snapping your wrist with a startling anger, like the seal had been cracked on a two liter pop bottle that had rolled around in the trunk for a week and a half. Still, nothing but a pathetic click. A split second thought crossed your mind—that the ferocity of your stomp might actually damage the car—but the logic was quickly snuffed out by your rage. The hard plastic key bit into your numb fingers. Over and over — stomping, twisting, cursing. Cursing yourself most of all for being stupid enough to let this continue for months. You were paying for it now. 

The tears were already waiting, primed behind your eyeballs, hardly dried on your cheeks when you left out the back door. They spilled over again, cooling as they dripped past your lashes, down the slope of your nose. One more time, you begged. Just one more time and I’ll be good, I swear. But the white Chevy Nova sat unmoved, offering only a vacant whine where there should have been a roar. You tossed back in your seat and huffed, chest heaving, filling the cramped space with the furious steam of your breath. 

Snowflakes glittered in the floodlights, shining like flares through the blur of your tears. It might have been beautiful on any other evening — one where the engine was warm, and your mind was clear, and your heart didn’t sink like a pit in your chest. It was hard to notice anything outside your bitter sobs, most especially the shadow that appeared in the window beside you. The rap of rings on the glass had you jumping, whipping your head to face the set of eyes you’d been avoiding most of all. 

“Need some help?” Eddie offered, bracing his knees in a crouch, eyes brimming with concern. 

Your stomach twisted with relief, then embarrassment, then a million other things rolled into one, sick knot. Wiping the evidence from your cheeks with a futile swipe of your sleeve, you cranked down the window with your left hand. You must have looked like an absolute basket case, jerking your arm in tight circles as the barrier lowered with the urgency of a tortoise. When where was enough space for him, Eddie braced against the top of your door and ducked his head inside. 

“Hey.” The warm sigh of his greeting kissed your cheek, thawing the sting of the cold. 

“Hey,” you mimicked, sounding just about as stable as you felt when it came out. “W-what are you doing here so late?” 

“Hellfire,” he stated simply. “You know, I could ask you the same question.”

Despite how true it was, it still felt pathetic when the answer left your lips. “Just… trying not to take so much work home with me.” You said it as casually as you could muster, but your voice betrayed you. Your cheeks were still cooling from the remnants of your tears, framing the heat from your dripping nose. 

Eddie suddenly looked very serious, splintering your armor with his softness. “You ok?” 

You gestured dejectedly at nothing, offering a hollow laugh. “No.”

Eddie filled the cabin with his sigh, eyes narrowing like he wanted to lunge through the window. Instead he just thumbed at the rubber and tipped his head closer, creaking your chest plate with the weight of his gaze. “You know, I could hear you clear across the parking lot,” he joked softly. “The car—I mean. Mostly. You leave your lights on or something?”

You shook your head. “It’s been doing this for months, ever since it started getting cold. I should have taken it to get checked out, but it usually starts after a couple tries.” 

“Sounds like it might be the battery, or maybe the starter. I won’t know unless I try and jump it. I’ll swing around—if—if that’s ok.” 

The wind ushered a curl toward his lips, and you clenched your hand to subdue it. “Yeah, it’s ok,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

With a nod, Eddie ducked out of the window and pivoted swiftly on his heels. From your side view mirror, you watched him make tracks in the blue snow with his heavy boots, hands shoved in his pockets as he glanced left and right, the ghost of his breath trailing closely behind. The seat creaked as you sat back and blinked like the cursor on a computer monitor; processing. One glance in your rearview mirror told you how disheveled you looked. Even in the twilight there was no masking the puffiness around your eyes, the mascara bleeding toward your cheeks. You swiped at them again, this time with a napkin from your glove box.

With a yank of the frigid handle, Eddie slid across the plaid and pleather padding into the drivers seat of his van. He froze for a second, glancing in his rearview mirror toward your small white sedan. Butterflies tore through his stomach, churning like a tornado as he flicked the ignition. Out of all his ridiculous fantasies, he hadn’t entertained this one. Not exactly anyway. One where you were the damsel in distress. One where he got to be the hero. 

The parking lot was vacant enough to drive across the lines. Ploughing through the naked patches where cars had spent the afternoon, he rumbled up beside you. Your stomach did a summersault when he stepped out, plodding around to the front of your car with jumper cables slung under his arm. 

“Can you pop the hood for me?” he asked.

The summersault rippled south through your abdomen. Reaching down under the console, your fingers found the leaver and obeyed. You felt kind of useless, just sitting there while he propped the hood onto the stand, shielding him from vision. Before you could form another thought, your hand was moving on its own, finding the plastic leaver of your door and opening it to the cold evening air. 

Eddie gave a shy look from behind his curtain of curls before stepping back with a nod. “Well, good news, there’s no monsters,” he joked. 

A smile cracked across your face, so genuine it almost felt foreign. You tucked your hands into your pockets, stepping closer to assess the engine like you knew what you were looking at. Your aura prickled with proximity, like his heat could thaw you even from where you stood. Eddie’s glance was soft and quick before procuring a small flashlight from his inner coat pocket. He held it in his teeth, flipping up the red and black plastic covers on the battery terminals. 

“I have hands too, you know,” you said with a smirk.

With a playful side-eye, he clamped the appropriate cables onto the terminals. Removing the silver torch from his mouth, he made room for his retort. “Mmhm, best keep ‘em warm. It’s uh, kinda chilly out.”

You shook your head as a laugh escaped your nostrils in a plume. Sauntering over to his van like a dark knight, Eddie leaned in the door to pop his own hood. Your boots made tentative tracks in the snow, drawn like a magnet as he hoisted the metal. From the light pinched in his teeth you could see the expanse of the massive engine, the shadow of his furrowed brow as he unscrewed plastic knobs. What you saw more than anything though—like a filter laid over the scene—were three type-written letters. The hands that typed them fumbled with the cables, squeezed around the thick, jaw-like clamps. When they bit right where he wanted, they released; tendons flexing, knuckles pinking from the freezing air. Reflexively, he wiped them on the chest of his black hoodie peeking out from his open coat. 

It might have just been the cold, but even in the twilight—in the absence of the flashlight he was tucking into his pocket—you could have sworn his cheeks flushed when he caught you staring. “Alright, um, go ahead and start your car. I’ll do the same.”

Following the tether that joined the two vehicles, you did as he told you. Nothing came of it though, just more incessant clicking. Exasperated, you tossed back in your seat before slumping out of the car once more. 

“Shit, it must be the starter. Probably cracked, that’s my guess anyway by the sound of it,” Eddie explained as he stepped around to face your engine again. Clicking his flashlight, he peered into the compartment. “See, if you follow the positive terminal line all the way down, that’s where the starter will be. Only problem is it’s tricky to get to without a lift.” 

You followed his grease-stained finger down the dirt-dusted tangle of tubes, drawing nearer under the subtle guise of interest in your engine. You stopped just inches from his solid leather frame, close enough to brush him with your elbow. “You seem to know your way around a car.”

He huffed, shaking his head as he muttered. “Wish I didn’t.” But before you could comment, he was shutting the hood. “I’m sorry, but I think we’re gonna have to call a tow truck.” 

Your defeated sigh rose toward the clouds as you glanced at the squat school building. The lights were off. Judy’s car was absent from the lot, as were all but a handful, including the two of yours. Glancing at your watch under the floodlights, the big hand tipped past the golden dot where a five should be.

Eddie stepped closer, filling the gap with a heavy exhale before meeting your eyes. “You know I could, um—” he scratched the back of his neck, words evaporating quicker than his breath. What could he do? What could he really do about any of this? For most of his life he’d been a leaf on the wind, scuttling across the pavement toward the gutter, struggling to steer himself away. But you were stranded, and if there was anything he was good for, it was a ride. “I could—I could take you back to your place. If you’re ok with that, I mean. We could—fuck—I mean you could call from there a-and I could—”

There were chinks in your armor, cracking with each bumbling word. You looked at him, really looked. Eddie Munson, with grease-stained hands and eyes that pierced like arrows in their pleading. Straight through to the softest part of you, the place between your ribs that cries I want. And oh, how desperately you wanted. Wanted to soothe his worried lips in yours again, to feel his pounding chest again, to be thawed by his heat again. But you just stood there, frozen.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his open coat, he shifted on the balls of his feet as he searched for more words in the snow. “Look, I know you said you wanted space, a-and it probably seems like—shit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing with a sharp sigh. “I just want to help you. Will you just let me help you? Please?”

Your chest plate clattered to the concrete, gauntlets falling in a heap beside your greaves. There was no white flag to wave. No sword to relinquish, or shield to discard. Your surrender was nothing but a soft “okay,” barely heard above the howling wind. 

______

A/N: After over a year and 100k words, the smut chapter is finally upon us! Thank you for coming with me on this very long journey and sticking it out. I have no idea how long this next one is going to take me to write, but I can promise you that when it’s finished you will experience every moment in exquisite, delicious, poetic detail. 

You might have noticed that I’ve pulled a few small details like character names and places from Flight of Icarus, but I will not be retconning any of Eddie’s backstory. 

Also random, tumblr decided to make that one paragraph bold once I changed it to chat font with no ability to unbold it, but that wasn't intended. It kind of worked though so I'm not mad.

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @raccoonboywrites @storiesbyrhi @trashmouth-richie @keeponquinning @munson-blurbs @blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @mrsjellymunson @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @barbiedragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @sllooney @lunaladybug734 @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I am not tagging anybody in this because this fic deals with very heavy subjects and I don't want to force anybody into that unexpectedly.

Title comes from "I Come With Knives" by IAMX

Warnings: blood, injury, blood drinking, mentions of past abuse (not explicit), mentions of emotinal/psychological abuse, mentions of (emotional) manipulation, self-inflicted injury (somewhat vague in description), trauma, slavery mention, angst with a dash of fluff here and there

If I need to add more PLEASE let me know

Word Count: 2,025

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The moment you laid eyes on him, you knew what he was. Even in the sunlight, those crimson eyes, the fangs, the bite marks. There was no denying it. But he never said anything about it, never brought it up, nor did he eat in front of you - so you let it lie.

You weren’t a vampire, fortunately, but unfortunately you’d been… a slave… to one. You toss and turn at night, imagining you’re back in her arms. Writhing under her, light fading as she drinks too much in her anger. How she coos and cuddles you afterward, urging water and fruit into your mouth as you cling to her. You wake up nauseous and panting, cold sweat sticking to your skin.

“Bad dream?”

You whipped around, the dagger you kept under your pillow aimed at the owner of the voice. Astarion chuckled, hands raised to show he was unarmed. You sighed and dropped your weapon.

“A really bad dream, then, or are you always so quick on the draw?”

You stay quiet and wipe the sweat off your brow and upper lip. There was a stream nearby… but the thought of being alone out here at night terrified you. Sleeping out in the open with another vampire mere feet away was bad enough.

But there was nothing else you could do now to distract your mind. Her eyes, her smile were burned into your every thought, taunting you, beckoning you back to her.

“I dreamt of my master,” you admit. His eyes squint with intrigue. You feel bile in the back of your throat. “She haunts me every time I close my eyes. I can’t get rid of her.”

He hums, contemplative. “When you say ‘master’...”

You hum, thinking you knew precisely what he was going to say. “She’s probably not too different from yours.”

All at once, he shuts down. The playful, charismatic aura about him turns to stone in a heartbeat. His voice is sour and sharp when he speaks, like a snake’s hiss. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then pretend I said nothing, but you’re not exactly trying to hide what you are.”

He opens his mouth, fangs prominent, but the conversation is cut short when someone shifts in their bedroll. You both watch, waiting for the still silence to return. Even once it does, he says nothing.

“Goodnight, Astarion.” You tuck your dagger back under your pillow and lay back down, tugging the blanket up and over your neck. He catches a glimpse of puncture wounds before they’re hidden away once more.

-

It’s almost noon the next day when he brings it up. Shadowheart and Gale forge ahead, chatting idly about their goddesses. When he sidles up beside you, you wait for him to speak.

“I thought I was being subtle.” It’s light, almost a pout. He doesn’t want to scrape past the surface just yet.

“The fangs and eyes could be excused, if you weren’t an elf. But I’d recognize a scar like that anywhere.” You look at him from the corner of your eye. “And the jokes were a little on the nose.”

His lip quirks up. He looks at you appraisingly, sizing you up. “You have the same scar,” he pointed out. You looked straight ahead again. He looked too… pleased with himself for noticing. “No wonder you wear a high collar - it looks deep.”

“I…” you swallow. Thinking about her makes you so flustered. It’s hard to find words when just thinking about it placed a boulder in your gut. “I was her personal blood supply. Every night, she…”

You don’t see the way his face softens. Haughty superiority replaced with a sort of sorrow. Empathy.

“I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it.”

Leaves brush up against each other around you with the coming and going of a cool breeze. The only other sound besides the conversation up ahead was the sound of boots stepping on dirt and over branches. You focus on it all, desperate to distract your mind.

Astarion clears his throat. “Your form is lousy, by the way.”

You turn and stare at him as though he’d sprouted a second head.

He pretended to study his nails. “When you threatened me last night, your grip was sloppy. And you’d never be able to land a solid blow, not without breaking your wrist first. Threatening an enemy is only as good as your ability to act on it.”

“So my form was like an empty threat?”

He grinned at you like you were a child grasping the alphabet for the first time. “Precisely.”

“And I assume you’d be the one to teach me how to improve?”

“Darling, there’s no one better. I would be willing to give you a pointer or two. If you ask nicely.”

You smiled despite yourself. And later, back at camp, you said please and he showed you everything you needed to know to defend yourself.

-

The stars glisten overhead. Each twinkle is a secret shared between them. A whisper of gossip. You can almost imagine what it would sound like - the tinkling of bells, the soft clink of porcelain.

Astarion purposefully makes his steps louder so you don’t startle when his face pops into your vision. The bags under his eyes seem deeper. His cheeks more hollowed than usual, skin sickly white instead of simply pale. He nudges his head toward the forest, and waits impatiently as you stand to follow.

Long strides carry him quickly through the underbrush, you’re nearly jogging to keep up. And suddenly he stops, ways enough from camp that talking wouldn’t wake anybody up.

He paces, almost frantic. “I don’t know who else to come to for this. The others already don’t trust me - they’d kill me before showing an ounce of kindness.”

“Astarion, what are you talking about?”

He groans and comes to a stop in front of you. His eyes are crazed and starved and apologetic. “I’m hungry,” he finally quietly admits. He takes a step back when he sees the microexpressions in your face. The way your eyes become distant and sharp. At the same time as your mind wanders to your master, you were searching him for any signs of danger. “I know what you’ve been through, but I can’t keep slinking off to eat squirrels and boar - it’s not enough, not if I have to fight. I feel so… weak. I’m open to suggestions, darling, really. I’d much rather not latch onto an old scab.”

When he says it, you turn your head away to hide that side of your neck. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. He can hear your heart racing in your chest. He’s worried for a moment that you’ll pass out. But he waits, as patient as a starving vampire can be, while you think. He makes no move forward, no efforts to reach toward you or grab you.

If eating animals couldn’t satisfy him enough, then only bigger prey would. Your mind jumps to shout “HUMAN” in your ear, but then you’re reminded of the bodies left in your wake. With each encounter, all manner of unsavory types were abandoned, left to rot and decay.

“T- The goblins? Could you eat those?”

He huffs, frustration seeping into his tone. “Well, yes, but there’s a startling lack of them for at least a mile down the road. With your permission, I’d be more than happy to eat my fill after a fight - even during, should it come to that. But if I have to fight tomorrow like- like this,” he gestures to himself, but his voice chokes before he can describe what may happen. He sighs.

The moon watches silently as you struggle against yourself. The stars whisper vitriol to each other, giggling as you clench and unclench your fists. You could do it. You could help him, right now. But just thinking about his mouth on your neck-

You swallow. “I may have an idea. I- I don’t know how well it’ll work, but…”

“I’m all pointy ears, darling.”

You stumble over your words, trying and failing to explain your thoughts. Eventually, you huff in annoyance with yourself and tell him to wait there, before disappearing back in the woods towards camp. You grab your dagger from beneath the pillow, an empty bottle you found, and a roll of bandages.

He frowns when he sees what you’ve returned with. “What are you doing with all that?”

You shove the roll of bandages towards him and he takes them, unwilling to upset you further when your face was set with such determination. You hold the bottle under your arm and steady your blade against your hand.

“Darling, what-”

The smell of blood hits him like a tidal wave. He can’t tear his eyes away. Something animalistic inside of him wants to lunge for a drink; it takes every ounce of his willpower not to.

You uncork the bottle with your teeth and line the dripping blood up with the whole. With a squeeze and a whimper, blood begins to fill the container. The drip slows when the bottle is halfway full. Even for a small jar, it’s impressive. You hold it out for him to take, a slight tremor in your fingertips. “Drink it.”

He can’t argue. He can barely form the words to say anything. All he can think about is the sanguine fluid presented to him. He licks a stray drip trailing down the side of the bottle with a sigh. So sweet. So warm. Thick and rich, not some watered down rancid rat’s blood. He’s groaning as he tips it back, gulping every last drop down.

In his distraction, you pull the bandage from his hand. It takes no effort at all. You wrap a section around your hand.

Astarion sighs long and low when he finishes. His eyes are closed, savoring the taste on his tongue. “That was…” He huffs with a smile, fangs bared and tinted with your blood. When the daze of hunger passes, his eyes find you.

You tried repeatedly to hold the bandage in place, pinning it between the back of your hand and your stomach, trying to hold onto it with your fingers, even trying to use your teeth. It falls each time. You’re careful not to let it hit the ground. You had enough to worry about - best not add infection to the list. Pale hands stop you before you can try again.

You startle away at first. His fingers barely wrap around your wrist, making no effort to hold you in place, only to hold you steady. His other hand takes hold of the bandage.

“May I?” It’s deep, almost seductive. He has a smirk on his face again. Already his skin is gaining the slightest tint of color; his eyes don’t look as tired. “It’s the least I could do.”

Everything inside of you tells you to run away. He’s too close. One quick movement while you’re off guard and he could drain you dry. He could hurt you. Your dagger is abandoned on the ground, dirt sticking to the wet blood along its edge as it waits to be cleaned. You’re defenseless.

With the barest nod, he gets to work. Nimble fingers wrap the cloth securely and tie it off on the back of your hand, out of the way so you can still hold onto things. He guides your hand to his mouth and you’re scared he’ll tear the bandage off and dig his teeth and tongue into the cut, but all he does is place a small kiss over it.

“This is a gift, you know,” he whispers, eyes half-lidded not with lust - but something reminiscent of it. A poor imitation. “I won’t forget it.”

He lets go of your hand. With a smile - too devious to be genuine - he slips back into the woods.

Her eyes don’t haunt you in your dreams that night. Her mouth doesn’t curl around contempt and honeyed words. All you see is him. His eyes staring through thick lashes into yours as his lips place a feathered kiss on your hand.

[librababe99]

hey veronica :))

i was wondering if you'd want to do a follow up for the friends to lovers fic. maybe something a little smutty? in my head it's just slow and sweet and she's reassuring Wade that yes she really does want him and he's just who me ??? whAt?

totally fine if this doesn't pique your interest though!

Hey Nikki !! This TOTALLY piques my interest---Wade is definitely one those guys who needs to be reminded how wanted and loved he is 🤭

I hope this second part does it justice!

More Than Just Friends: Part Two

Tags: MDNI, 18+ONLY, Wade Wilson, Female Reader, First Dates, Implied Smut, Set during the 2016 Deadpool Movie

Summary: Wade and Reader finally explore the depths of their newfound relationship....

wc: 1.4K

| More Than Just Friends: Part One |

After that night in Wade's apartment, something had shifted between the two of you. Everything was the same, yet completely different. The easy banter still flowed, the teasing grins and flirtatious remarks, but there was an undercurrent of something new—a closeness, an intimacy that hadn’t been there before. It was as if you had stepped into a new world with Wade, one where feelings were laid bare instead of hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and jokes.

Tonight was your first, official date. 

You stood outside Wade’s apartment, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves as you knocked. The door creaked open, revealing Wade in his typical “trying but not trying” attire—black jeans, a snug shirt, and his favorite leather jacket slung over his shoulder. His eyes swept over you, and for a moment, he looked genuinely taken aback.

“You clean up nice, hot stuff,” he said with a grin, but there was a warmth in his voice that made your heart skip.

“Not so bad yourself,” you teased, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.

The plan was simple—dinner at one of Wade’s favorite low-key spots and then… Well, you didn’t know what would happen after, but the idea of it made your stomach flip. Being Wade, he insisted on not doing anything too fancy. “Who wants to be stuck in a stuffy restaurant when you could get some killer tacos and people-watch the weirdos of New York?” he’d said, and honestly, that sounded perfect.

Dinner was easy, comfortable, the two of you falling into the familiar rhythm of conversation. Wade made you laugh the entire night, spinning stories about his latest jobs, exaggerated just enough to be ridiculous. The whole time, though, there was an edge to him, a certain awareness in the way he looked at you. His eyes lingered longer, his touches were softer, more intentional.

You found yourself watching him, too—how his smile crinkled his eyes, how his voice softened when he leaned in close. You’d always been drawn to Wade, but now there was a sense of longing mixed in with the affection, something that made your heart race whenever your knees brushed under the table or when he caught your gaze and held it for a second too long.

By the time you left the taco joint, the city was alive with lights and sounds, and Wade took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The two of you walked through the streets, your pace leisurely as you talked about everything and nothing.

“You know,” Wade said, glancing sideways at you, “this was nice. Like, not that I hate being covered in blood and guts every time we hang out, but this? This was nice.”

You laughed, squeezing his hand. “Yeah, I could get used to this.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, but beneath it was that same tension—the unspoken promise of what the night might hold.

Eventually, you found yourselves back at Wade’s apartment. The moment you stepped inside, something shifted. It wasn’t awkward, but there was a weight to the air, a charged anticipation. Wade shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the back of the couch before turning to you with a look that made your breath catch.

“So… do we end this night with a classic movie? Something with lots of explosions and bad one-liners? Or do we…” His voice trailed off, and for once, there wasn’t a sarcastic edge to it. He was giving you an out, a chance to keep things light.

But you didn’t want light. Not tonight.

You stepped closer to him, your fingers brushing his arm as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “Or do we what?” you asked softly, though you knew exactly where this was going.

Wade swallowed hard, his usual bravado flickering. “Or… we end it like this.”

He closed the space between you in a heartbeat, his lips crashing into yours in a kiss that was both hungry and tender. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as you melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck. It was the kind of kiss that made your head spin, that made everything else in the world disappear.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathing heavily, Wade rested his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you as if afraid you might pull away.

“You sure you want this?” he asked quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m… not exactly the easiest guy to be with.”

You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over the rough skin where his stubble had started to grow in. “Wade, I’ve wanted this for a long time. I know what I’m getting into.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath. “I just… I don’t want to screw this up.”

You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead before looking into his eyes. “You won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”

The vulnerability in his gaze made your heart ache. Wade had always been the guy who covered everything with a joke, the man who never let anyone too close. But now, here he was—completely open, trusting you with the parts of him he’d never shown anyone else.

You guided him toward the bed, the two of you moving slowly, every step filled with intent. Wade’s hands slid up your back, fingers trembling slightly as they traced over the curves of your body. His usual confidence was still there, but it was gentler, more tentative.

When you reached the edge of the bed, you gently pushed him down, straddling his lap as you kissed him again. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate. Your hands tangled in his hair as his lips moved against yours, and the feeling of him beneath you, warm and solid, made a wave of heat pool in your stomach.

Wade’s hands rested on your hips, squeezing gently as he pulled you closer, and when you broke the kiss to look at him, his eyes were darker, filled with something deeper than lust—something like adoration.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he whispered, his voice thick.

You smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his jaw. “So are you.”

You could feel his breath hitch as your lips brushed over his skin, his grip on you tightening as you began to slowly unbutton his shirt. There was a quiet intimacy in the moment, something that made everything feel right, like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

When his shirt fell open, exposing the hard planes of his chest, you trailed kisses down his neck, savoring the way his body tensed beneath your touch. Wade was usually the one in control, always one step ahead with his quick wit and faster hands, but now, he was letting you take the lead, letting you guide this moment.

“I want you,” you whispered against his skin, and you felt him shudder beneath you.

Wade’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something vulnerable in the way he looked at you, something raw and unguarded. “Are you sure?”

You smiled softly, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

For the first time, Wade didn’t crack a joke, didn’t try to deflect with humor. Instead, he kissed you again, slower this time, savoring every second. His hands moved over your body, reverent and gentle, and when he whispered your name against your lips, it felt like a promise.

The night unfolded between you, slow and unhurried, each touch filled with meaning, each kiss a reminder that this was more than just a fling. Your bodies moved together with an unspoken understanding, a gentle rhythm that mirrored the years of friendship, trust, and quiet longing that had always simmered beneath the surface. There was no urgency, no need to prove anything—just the overwhelming intimacy of being close, of knowing that this moment wasn’t just about passion, but connection. You could feel it in the way Wade held you, his touch tender and almost hesitant, as if he was afraid of breaking the spell.

When you finally collapsed together, bodies entwined beneath the sheets, Wade pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapped around you as if he was afraid to let go.

“You still here?” he whispered, his voice hoarse, but there was a smile in it.

You nodded, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “Still here.”

And in that moment, you knew you always would be.

[midnight-mourning]

Two Animatronics Dancing—Oh, and You. You're Here Too

Holiday Spirit! au Chapter 2

*peeks into tumblr, looks around, drops this and runs*

Anywho, this chapter was a bit of a struggle for a bit there, I also just randomly felt bad so apologies for the delays, please enjoy! I went for the kill :)

having said that, Content Warning: Borderline/implied suggestive content, reader discresion is advised.

Ao3 link for those who don't wish to suffer (you should come back once you're done and read the tags and take the poll tho >:)c)

Word Count: 7306

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"Oh, I um—" You're still processing this is happening, you need to think, lest you make a fool of yourself in front of the king. 

You take a breath and bow. "My name is Y/N, your Majesty."

"Please, rise. After what you've done it's me who should be bowing to you." He chuckles, then waves you closer. "Allow me to thank you properly, if you would."

With a swallow, you walk forward, ignoring the tightening of the hold on your arm before it releases you finally. 

Once you make it to the carriage is when you finally pay attention to the others inside. Neither the younger prince nor the princess look happy to be there, though the princess seems to be greatly enjoying teasing her brother every few moments. The older prince seems aloof, annoyed, but when you catch his gaze he shoots a wink your way. 

Before you can think on it further the king is firmly clasping his hands around one of yours, shaking it. "Your quick actions have saved me quite the trouble. Might I ask how you had such knowledge?"

You give a—slightly mumbled—explanation regarding your work and your shop, to the king's delight. 

"Ah, so it's you who's been repairing my guards so quickly." The king chuckles. "I must say, fine work. Almost like new!"

You nod. "We try our best, your Majesty."

"I want to thank you for your work." The king announces, thinking for a moment, then snaps his fingers. "I'll be hosting a grand ball in three weeks’ time, I insist that you join in the festivities as the guest of honor."

Your eyes widen, putting your hands up. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the older prince—god you're terrible with names, what is it again?—straighten up slightly, small frown on his features as he watches his father.

"Oh, you're far to kind, your Grace. I wouldn't want to intrude—"

"Nonsense!" The king scoffs, then shakes his head. "No, I've decided. I'll see to it myself that you get a proper invitation." He turns away from you then, addressing the crowd. "Three cheers for the smithy!"

The crowd responds in turn and you feel like curling in on yourself. Not just because of the attention, but because of the King himself. There was something about him, something behind those eyes and that smile that you found off putting. Which, not the attitude to have towards a man who could wave his hand to decide your fate, but you're trying here. 

Soon after, the precession begins again, and continues without any further issue. You're still processing the entire ordeal however much later as you sit in the tavern up the street from your home and shop. Said shop having received an abundance of visitors in the past few hours.

Consisting of either new customers, curious festival goers, or fellow villagers congratulating you. 

You didn't even do anything that major, you just unplugged a few wires!

Your crew gave you hell about it, their teasing was incessant once they found out the news. 

It all had been so much that when Bri walked in your shop with the proposition of getting drinks like old times you all but jumped at the opportunity. Tossing off your apron and gloves and leaping into her arms—an old inside joke you used to play on each other—and with a laugh she carries you out of the shop and to the tavern. 

Now, here you were, the sun long gone and a pint in your hands that you've been nursing for the past couple hours. You'd have drank more if you firstly didn't have work tomorrow, and if you could manage to get a sip without being interrupted by a thank you or the likes. 

After the last person leaves, having been one of the chattier ones, you set your forehead on the bar with a groan. 

Bri pats your back with her free hand. "There, there, o great and powerful smithy. People are just being nice. Eat it up while it lasts."

"I think if I 'eat' anymore I'll burst." You say into the wood, then turn your head to the side to look at her. "It wasn't even that big a deal, I don't know why he made it seem like such."

Bri tsks, taking a sip of her own pint. "He's the king. A major disruption happened during an event he was present for. He has to make a big deal out of it. Especially considering how bad it could have been."

You cringe at that. You'd found out after the fact that Bonnie's malfunction had caused him to not only lose control of himself, but prior to being tackled to the ground had attempted to point his weapon at the King. That had been the lone shot you'd heard, with the miss ending up in the sky instead. 

"Just be glad it's a one and done thing, could be worse in that regard."

You sigh. "True. Very true."

"You know, I wasn't expecting to see you out today." Bri looks up down to you with a soft smile. "You've come a long way."

You scrunch your nose. "Don't remind me. It's disgusting." You protest as she flicks your nose. 

"Getting through your grief isn't disgusting, you idiot. It's an accomplishment. One you should be proud of."

You sit up finally with a stretch. "Thanks. And what about you? What's new?"

"So much, and yet, nothing at all. I've missed it here though, I've been pissed off three years in a row that I wasn't assigned to come back." Bri huffs as you laugh. 

You grab your pint, taking a sip. "Guessing it's cause of the threats?"

"That's what everyone's thinking, but personally I think there's more to it than that."

That grabs your interest. "You don't say?"

"Yeah, and I'd say it's because so many animatronics have been acting up lately, but that just started when we arrived here." Bri shakes her head. "I shouldn't be talking about this, you're probably tired."

"No!" You say, then cough, trying again. "I mean, no I um, find it interesting. I'm the one doing all the repair work, you know. Is that really the best you've all been able to come up with is just beating them senseless?"

She shakes her head again. "No, that I'm not entirely sure on, but I've noticed there's been a large number of bots stationed in certain locations throughout the castle, and town, for that matter. Places that just seem odd, you know?" She takes another sip of her pint, finishing it and waving her hand for another. "But I swear, it's when they come back from those locations—already a bit banged up mind you—that the glitches start happening."

You take all this in like sponge. Then, licking your lips you ask—"Which spots out of curiosity?"

"Town, just look anywhere that there's way too many guards. In the castle it's been the library, the west tower, and the—"

"And just what are you two chatting about?"

You turn in your seat, finding Sun is standing behind you both. Behind him is Moon. 

Bri laughs, twisting to face them both fully. "Well look who it is! Didn't expect to see you two shmucks tonight."

"Shmucks is a bit harsh." Moon quips. 

Sun nods. "We prefer the term bozos, or fools."

The three of them chat back and forth for a moment before Bri remembers what she was saying. 

She turns to face you again. "Oh right, you wanted to know about the guards—"

"So, celebrating are we?" Sun interrupts, taking a seat on the stool between yourself and Bri.

You attempt to lean around him, but he sets his elbow on the counter, head in his chin, essentially creating a wall between you and Bri.

You frown. "We were, before you jutted in."

His grin only widens a tinge. "That's not much a greeting, friend."

"Well, considering you just now decided to acknowledge me, I could say the same to you."

You hold each other's gaze until a hand is set on your shoulder; Moon. He sits on the opposite side of you, taking your free hand to press to his smile.

"They're right, Sun. Good evening, Diana. How are you?"

You scoff, small smirk on your lips as you turn to him a bit more, ignoring the ticking sound behind you, and the tapping—of what you know is—a golden claw. "Just because you gave a proper hello doesn't mean you're any better."

"Late is better than never." Moon argues.

You reach for your drink again with a nod. "To some extent, I agree with you."

"I'll take that." Moon waves to the bartender, surprising you.

You keep your eyes trained on the pint that's set in front of him, then to him when he raises it to his mouth, pausing to meet your gaze.

"Something the matter?"

You're in denial. "You can drink?"

"I'm older than I look." He chuckles.

Your eyes narrow. "That's not what I mean and you know it."

"We're living machines. We have thoughts, feelings, and pain." Sun remarks, and you turn in time to watch him sip his own drink. "With all that considered, it be cruel to not be able to."

You twist in your seat again, genuinely curious and outright confused. Be it your own impulse or the small amount of alcohol in your system, you reach up with both hands to hold his face. He's less than impressed.

You rub your thumb's over his cheeks, brow furrowed. "What material is this? It's... spongy."

"Decided to acknowledge me now, have you?" Is his mused response.

You huff. "Let's call it even. Answer the question."

"Silicon. I believe." He puts a hand on one of your wrists. "Now are you quite finished?"

You don't care to take the hint. Still examining. "No. Why the mostly constant grins then?" You glance over to Moon slightly to be able to address both of them.

"More appealing to the public eye." Sun states.

Moon shrugs. "Laziness."

You nod, releasing Sun finally and reaching for your drink. "Never seen the like before."

"Well, seems you don't know everything after all." You must have genuinely annoyed him, you can hear a whirring sound emitting from him, just above the sound of the crowded tavern.

Moon chuckles are you bluster at this. "Who said I did?"

"That's the word going around, after the show you put on today." He offers up.

"Hardly. Believe me if I knew it was going to cause that much of a fuss I wouldn't have—" You pause, remembering the alternative. "Well, I suppose I still would have."

Moon sets down his—now empty pint—waving his hand for another. "What's done is done. You did the right thing."

"Though maybe not the wise one." Sun mutters into his mug. But before you can question him on it he's looking over you to his counterpart. "I'm not helping you back if you drink yourself into a stupor."

Moon's eyes crinkle, resting his head on the back of his hand. "Aren't you such a good friend, Sunny?"

"We're not friends." He bites, looking away, cup creaking under the force his hands apply to it.

Moon must've not been expecting that response. His grin falters, then he tsks, facing forward and taking a long drink from his pint, setting it down again with a muted thud.

Silence. Then, a realization.

"Wait a moment." You lean around Sun easily this time. "Where's Bri?"

Sun hunches further over the bar. "Dancing. Left some time ago. While you were busy 'chatting'."

You glare at him at moment but say nothing more. You'll leave him to his brooding. You twist around to face the rest of the tavern, taking a moment then spying Bri among the dancing parties.

"Why that little—" You glance back between the two animatronics.

Of the two, Moon seems in higher spirits, contently musing over his drink now. You'll take your chances on him, then.

You stand, grabbing his hand. "Come on."

"You want to dance?" He sets the mug down, surprised, but stands up.

You start dragging him out to the floor. "Hardly. I want to give her 'what for' for abandoning me, but it's a partner dance and I don't want to make a scene." You turn back to him for a moment. "That a good enough reason?"

His faceplate clicks, then his surprise turns to his normal grin, snickering. "Enough for me."

"Good."

The two of you integrate into the group seamlessly. You've never been much of a dancer, but despite this, the two of you move well together. It's some jovial, upbeat, song, and you fall in step together well. Despite being much taller—and you think maybe just a tad tipsy—Moon makes a good partner. You enjoy it more than you were expecting to.

However, you remember your goal again when Bri dances by you, not a care in the world. You make eye contact and she grins at you, speaking just above the music.

"Look at you! Thought you weren't the dancing type."

You scowl. "I'm not. You left me!"

A spin about the room, then returning to your original positions.

"Oh, you were fine. I left you in good hands." She nods to Moon. "Isn't that right?"

He nods. "Indeed."

"Of course he's going to agree with you!" You huff, then shake your head. "I'll forgive you if we can finish our earlier conversation."

"Right now?" She asks and you nod. She's not even surprised, just protests. "But I'm dancing!"

You open your mouth to respond, but before you get the chance you're spun away again. You curse under your breath, glaring up to your dance partner.

"I wasn't finished." You state.

Moon bends so you're a little more eye to eye. "I know. But this isn't the time or place."

Your frown deepens. "Just how much did you hear—"

Moon takes the lead. Or at least, more so than before. The two of you begin to dance faster, grander, more elaborate. You can hardly keep up.

One moment you're on the outer edge of the circle of dancers, but now find yourself front and center, some space having been cleared out for the two of you to take the stage. The musicians begin to pick up pace to match your energy and you can't do anything more than focus on not making a fool of yourself. Much less think.

You're about to be protest being tossed around like a ragdoll when Moon spins you back into his chest, leaning down for a moment.

"Let go and let yourself enjoy the moment." He mutters, then spins you back to face him. "For once, don't worry about anyone but yourself. Please."

The sincerity in his tone makes you hesitate. Something about it striking a familiar chord. So, you relent, relaxing and letting the song take you.

Keeping up becomes easy after that. Simple. A smile growing on your face as you take joy in seeing if the animatronic can now keep up with you. And as he picks you up for a final spin you feel something you haven't for a long time. A sense of happiness you rarely feel these days. It's in that aftermath while people are cheering all around you that your eyes meet with a face watching you from the bar.

Sun's glare is scorching, posture far too relaxed for the frown he's wearing beneath that hardened gaze. Your eyes meet and your stomach twists. Triggering some long forgotten memory with faces you can't recall and names that are still deeply buried.

When you escape it, shaking your head to move it back to the recesses of your mind, you see he's facing away again, ordering another drink.

Had you been paying closer attention you'd have realized he was watching the entire time.

"Are you alright?" Moon asks and you look back to him You envy the fact that he's not out of breath like you. "I apologize. I suppose I got a bit carried away for a moment."

You take a few deep breaths, nodding. "Fine. Just next time? Ask before assuming I can keep pace."

"Won't need to." He says, leading you off the floor as another song picks back up. "Now I know your tempo."

The night ends for you sometime after that. You'd not intended to be out very long in the first place. And with those damn guards seeming hellbent on keeping you from talking to Bri—even while intoxicated themselves—there was no point to you lingering any longer. 

So, you say your goodbyes and leave the tavern, heading home. Your head hurts, either from the stress of today, or the stress for tomorrow, and maybe because of that last pint you chose to chug before leaving. Who's to say, really?

You're ever so curious to what's happening up in that castle, now more so than ever. While there's nothing you could do about it, you can't help but be concerned for what it all might mean. Not to mention, another child went missing this evening. Just before dusk this time. If your shop hadn't been flooded with spectators you'd have volunteered yourself, instead of just letting part of your crew go.

You think it may very well have been haunting you since, hence your insistence to ask about the damage to the animatronics. It was a distractor, a way to keep your mind from wandering and fretting over the what ifs. You shake away said with ifs right then and there, your siblings are safe. And you'll do everything in your power to keep it that way.

The crunch in the snow behind you alerts you to the fact you're being followed. It's late, and you have another few streets to traverse before you can get home. So, you stop. Reaching down as if to tie your boot but in reality are grabbing your knife. It's not much, but it'll get the job done when needed. And you're hoping it's not needed.

Slipping it into your sleeve, you stand up and turn around. "May I help you—you're joking."

"You're the joke if you thought you were going to walk home alone, Bright Eyes." Sun stands behind you, his tone not being nearly as intimidating as he thinks he's being with that slight sway to his stance. 

You scoff. "Some good you'll be. I can handle myself just fine, Pretty Bot." You feel your brows shoot up at that, likely matching the look on Sun's own features you're guessing. 

He relaxes quicker than you though. "You think I'm pretty? How sweet."

"Don't start. It was merely a slip of the tongue." You scowl, but take his hand when he offers it. The nickname troubles you. But you're too distracted by him leaning down into your field of view to think on it further. 

His gaze is half-lidded again, lazy. But you can still sense a sharp wit about him. "From my understanding, drinking makes you more honest, not less."

"Then I'll be blunt with you and say it was meant to be taken as an insult, how's that?" You say, marching forward finally. It's cold out here and you don't have time for his, whatever this is.

A pause as he thinks on it, nothing but the sound of your combined footsteps in the snow.

"Hurtful, but I won't hold it against you for suddenly becoming bashful."

You huff. "That's not—"

You're cut off as Sun suddenly spins you around and into a dip, bending low.

"Don't you dare drop me." You warn. Though his grip on your hand and back are firm, secure. 

He tuts. "Oh, let me have this, won't you?" He mutters something you can't quite catch, almost seeming to be staring through you before setting you upright again. Starting to walk again without another word. You call it a bit of drunken foolishness and let it go.

The streets are eerily quiet the closer you get to home. Of course, off in the distance behind you the noises of the night market still flit about. But down the road you're traveling it's nearly dead silent. It holds a peace that soothes you and your worries. 

Temporarily. 

"You shouldn't have accepted that invitation today." 

You look up to the sunny bot, brow raised. "And I suppose you believed I had much a choice in the matter?"

"You didn't." He shakes his head. 

You scoff. "Then what should I have done then? I shouldn't have accepted but I had no other choice."

"The castle is no place for someone like you." 

Your eyes narrow. "Because I'm a commoner?"

Sun stops, turning to face you. Both hands take your shoulders as he bends so you're eye to eye. 

"Because they'll eat you alive."

You swallow, frown deepening. "You're a big help now, aren't you? Appreciate the vote of confidence." You shrug yourself out of his grip, marching on without him. 

"Wait, that's not—" There's static for a moment and he rushes to catch up with you, almost falling in step quickly with his longer legs. "Please, forgive my wording, Celeste. I'm not the most fluent at the moment."

You huff. "Yeah I can tell—What did you just call me?"

"I, I'm only—" He doesn't get to finish, as right when he manages to catch up with you again, he slips on a nonvisible patch of ice, falling back into the snow. 

When you turn to look back at him, his eyes wide, you see a slight fear in his eyes at your still hardened glare. But the ridiculousness of the situation and how overtly frazzled he looks for the first time ever, makes your burst out laughing. You clutch your stomach and throw your head back, not a care in the world for who may hear you. 

It takes you several moments to calm down enough to lower your volume to quiet giggling, looking back to him with tears in your eyes. 

"I, I haven't laughed that hard in years. Thank you."

You see his rays spin, able to do so with his hat lying abandoned in the snow. Then, he shakes his head, grumbling as he tries to collect himself to stand. 

"Here, take my hand you drunken klutz,"—you extend it down to him, giggling again while he looks for his hat—"Behind you, Pretty Bot."

He twists around, grabs it, and before you can think further his free hand grips your own, and pulls you down with him. Your eyes widen, stumbling and falling on top of him, your knees landing hard on the packed snow around his torso. 

"Ow." You groan, looking down for a moment, before glancing back up to tell him off. "Was that really necessary—" You cut yourself off, you weren't expecting to be just inches apart. 

His hand comes up to hold your cheek, eyes focused intensely on you. "Yes. Definitely." 

You just stare at each other for a moment, well, you more so at him. It finally clicks what he's looking at when his thumb swipes over your lips. Your cheeks start to burn and you cough. 

"Your hand's cold. And my knees hurt. So I'm getting up now."

You don't have to shift out of his grip, he release you himself, hand letting go as if he'd been burnt. He keeps that same troubled look on his face as you both stand up and start walking again. At this rate you'll be surprised if you ever get home. 

But, you finally turn the corner for your street soon enough, the pull of being in your bed growing stronger by the minute. 

"What did you mean that you hadn't laughed that hard in years?" Sun asks in the quiet.

You shove your hands deeper in your pockets, looking to the ground. "What did you mean by 'they'll eat you alive'?"

Silence. 

"You first."

You scoff, but relent. "I'd say it was the grief, but that's only been a year or so." You shake your head. "I lost a part of myself to someone, a long time ago. They took my laughter with them." Your hand comes up to your necklace gripping it tight before releasing it. "Your turn."

"The two you ran into on the street last week are nothing in comparison to actual nobility. They see everyone around them as lesser, including those at the same or higher ranking to them. And I fear should you attend in three week's that we won't—" Sun falters, shrinking in on himself. "That I won't, be able to protect you."

You mull over his words. "Who cares?"

"Pardon?" He looks over to you, drawn out of his thoughts. 

You stop walking, turning to him and poking a finger into his chest. "Why would anyone care what happens to me, especially you? You hardly know me."

"Hardly know you—" He stands straight now, towering over you. "Why do you have such a lack of care for yourself? And why would time matter so much regarding whether I care for your safety or don't?  I—let me ask you, that child that went missing yesterday, or the one today, do you have any connection to them?"

You shake your head. "None at all."

"And yet, you went searching for them last night, and would have tonight as well had you been able to, no?"

"Of course. Without question." You shrug. "What's your point?"

Sun stares at you a moment, then laughs, bringing his hand up to his faceplate and gripping one of the rays at the top of his head. "You've answered your own question, Celeste. And mine." He shakes his head, looking back to you. "Do your knees still hurt?"

"Terribly. Thanks a lot."

He nods. "Thought so. My apologies, allow me to remedy it." Before you can think, he's scooping you up, one arm under the back of your thighs, the other your shoulders as he carries you bridal style the rest of the way to your home. 

Flustered, you allow it to happen, assuming he'll set you down once you get to the door. 

"Do you have your key?" He asks, not setting you down. 

"I, it's unlocked."

He nods, taking a moment to open it and then bending his head to step inside. He locks the door for you, then turns around with you still in his arms. Seems he was serious about this. 

Your living room is quiet, dark, and you spare a glance at Clara asleep on the couch as Sun takes muted steps back through to your kitchen, then up your stairs when you point to them. 

"You have a lovely home." He murmurs when he reaches the top. 

"Thanks." You whisper back. "My room's at the end of the hall, but stop in the nursery for a moment."

Sun obeys, allowing you to peek in and see that Gabe and Lisa are both sound asleep. You feel lighter as Sun walks the remaining way to your room.  He sets you on the bed, stepping back once he does so. The comfort of your bed underneath you almost makes you want to flop back then and there to sleep, but you resist the urge and take off your shoes and coat. 

You get up and walk past Sun to set them by your bedroom door, snatching up your sleepwear as you do so. You walk back and around to the opposite side of the bed, staring at him as he simply looks on. 

You make a circle motion with your finger. "You mind turning around? I don't have one of those fancy room dividers."

His rays spin again, hat tight in his hands. "Oh! Um, sorry. I should, leave." He turns to go. "Have a good night—"

"Stay." You just manage to snatch his wrist, having had to climb up onto the bed and reach out for him. 

He glances back to you, eyes wide. 

You shake your head. "It's late, it's cold, and I doubt you have enough of your wits about you to make it back to where you belong alive. Not after you're little spill earlier." You chuckle, then nod. "It's fine. Stay."

His rays tick to the left a few times, then to the right. Then, he nods. "Okay."

You let him go, sitting back and he turns around once more, unmoving this time. 

"The other two going to be alright without you?" You ask as you slip out of your clothes. 

Sun nods. "I told Montgomery where we'd be earlier this evening. And Captain Perry is more than capable of handling her own." He chuckles. "And her liquor. Of the two it would be Moon that would be of concern, but they'll be fine."

You snicker. "That's Bri for yah. And captain huh? She's been busy." You realize that your knife is missing, and you start looking around for it. "Shit, where did I put that..."

"You dropped this in the snow earlier." Sun holds up your knife, still facing away. "Such a large weapon for a small thing like you."

You scoff, climbing back over the bed to take it from him. "Hardly much at all. Do you consider everyone shorter than you to be 'a small thing'?"

He snatches your wrist then, turning slightly to face you. slight grin on his features. "Truthfully yes. But especially those who take more risks than they should, like an immature teenager."

"I'm two seconds away from headbutting you right in that smart mouth of yours." You mutter. 

"Proving my point~"

You take your wrist, and your knife back. "You know. I could have still been half-dressed. Then you would've seemed like a creep just now instead of slightly humorous."

That stupes him. He stutters out a rebuttal as you set your knife on the nightstand on the left side of the bed, laying back on it a moment later. 

"Well? Don't just stand there." You pat the bed beside you. "You're sleeping in here so I can keep an eye on you."

It takes him a moment, then he sits down with a tsk. "I have no reason to harm anyone in this house."

"I have no reason to trust your words." 

Sun removes his boots, then reaches up to unbutton his coat, revealing a white undershirt soon thereafter. "You trust me in your home but you don't trust the things I say?"

"Action speak louder than words." You quip as he folds the coat, setting it on the end of bed with his hat. The last thing he removes is the claw from his index finger, setting it on the nightstand on his side. "Not the gloves?"

"You wouldn't like my hands." He says, laying down, then turning over to face you. 

You remember the feeling of that claw on your face earlier in the night. You wonder what's so wrong with his hands if he believes they're any worse than that. 

"You're bed is small."

You huff. "It's not built for nine foot tall animatronics, you mean."

"Just eight, though I know someone of your height and stature could hardly tell. The entire world must feel large to you." He snickers as you roll your eyes. 

You feel bold, your last minute drink seeming to hit you now of all times. You grabbed his clothed shoulder, pulling him closer. "Then curl up a bit then. Make the most of the space."

Before he can protest, you reach down and pull his legs up, and then entangle with yours. 

Seeing his wide-eyed, open-mouth stare you scoff, ignoring the heat on your cheeks. "What? You think you're the only man I've shared a bed with? Only person for that matter? I was stuck in the nursery with Lisa for seven years, and she is simultaneously a cuddler and a kicker."

"I, I s-see." Is his only response. 

Now you can't ignore the burning across your face and ears. "It's only weird if you make it weird."

"Weird? I'm not making it weird, you're the one who's bringing it up!"

"Because you're giving me that look, stop it!" You hiss.

His hands come up and over his face, muttering something. 

Your face is on fire now. "Since when are you bashful? Seriously, this is nothing—"

"Your knee, Celeste. For the love of the stars, move your knee." He manages to get out. 

You glance down. "What—oh." You quickly pull it back towards your body. "Sorry."

"I can't understand you." He shakes his head, finally letting go of his face. "Not in the slightest bit."

"Maybe that's intentional." You chuckle as he scoffs. 

Sun glances over to you again, resting one hand by his head. "You're incredibly smart and yet, so foolish. Selfless to a fault and again, foolish because of it. You cautious to trust anyone, and yet you'll invite them into your home and your bed, and then act as if it's nothing! I just, you're so confounding."

"Would you like to know a secret?" You ask in the quiet. 

"I suppose I have nothing better to do."

You laugh softly. "I don't know why I do the things I do sometimes. Life's complex, it's made me complex. Even I can't wrap my head around it sometimes." You shake your head, looking away for a moment then back. "There's just, something about you that made me decide you should stay. And that's all there is to it."

Sun nods after a moment or two. Then—

"That's a piss poor answer, Bright Eyes."

The days that follow are filled with you doing your best to evade the two animatronic guards. Not because of what happened that night with either of them, though. Rather, you're trying to find out what's happening to their compatriots after your tip from Bri.

It's nothing more than a curiosity at first, but it occurs to you that they're actively trying to stop you from investigating further. Which only serves to take your curiosity to genuine interest, then to zealous inquisitiveness that almost starts to eat away at you a bit. Every nook and cranny you seek to turn over, they're there to lead you away or distract in some manner from it. The elephant in the room has doubled in size, and it's only a matter of time before it breaks through the floorboards, sending you all tumbling down. 

Not to mention, every night, like clockwork, there's a report of another missing child. The total number having grown to six. Everyone's in a panic, and very little can be done to soothe the worries of those who are fortunate enough to still have all their children accounted for. Yourself included. 

Despite their overall annoying presence the past week, you cannot deny that you do feel safer having one of them nearby while you go to and fro with your siblings in tow. 

There's something going on here, and you don't know the connection point but something has to be related between all of this, there's no way there isn't some link. The disappearances started occurring after the festival began, and Bri told you there wasn't these glitches happening back in the capital. But what relation the two have to each other, you don't know. 

And how the two guards watching your every move fit into it, you couldn't make sense of that in the slightest. 

"Musing to yourself, Diana?"

"Something like that." You mutter into your cup.

You were sitting on a bench near the grand tree in the town square. Lisa had asked you if you could visit the festival again today, and needing a bit of break yourself—for more reasons than one—you agreed. 

Gabe's sitting on the ground beside you, playing in the snow, while Lisa dragged the sunnier of the two guards out to dance with her among the others gathered in the square. Though, he didn't seem to mind. To his credit, he had seemed to prove to you he was good with kids.

Moon as well, as he bends down to toss some snow on Gabe's legs. Your little brother giggling and smacking his gloved hands into it. 

Moon sits up again, chuckling and nodding to your mug. "With how tightly your gripping that, I'd say you need something stronger."

"Shit. Sorry." You relax your hold. 

He takes it from you, taking a drink himself. "No need to apologize to me. It's not my mug."

"There's just, a lot on my mind." You sigh and lay back against the bench. "Too many things happening in what's supposed to be a quiet village."

"A lot of them aren't your problem though, are they."

You scoff. "They are and they aren't. Your pals are coming in to me by the dozen daily. Can't help but wonder as to why. Because we both know there's more than just, glitches, happening."

"And why do you think that?" There's still a cheekiness to his tone, but there's an edge of something else underneath. 

You look over to him. "Because neither of you have shown up once in over two weeks. I'm getting repeat customers by now, and yet, not a lick of damage to either one of you. I've been checking."

Moon stays quiet, but you hear the tiniest little creak on the mug. You continue. "And I think we both know this is past the point of coincidences. Wouldn't you say?"

He doesn't. He says nothing at all as he hands your mug back and you take another drink, downing the remaining warm liquid.

"And besides that, my bigger overall concern is keeping my siblings safe, first and foremost." You reach down and ruffle the hat on Gabe's head, eyes on Lisa as she spins about, not a care in the world. "I'm starting to worry about how well I'm able to do that."

You're surprised by a touch to your shoulder, jumping as you see Moon's much closer now. 

With a tenderness you weren't expecting at that moment, his hand moves to your cheek, words murmured, but firm. "Nothing is going to happen to them. I won't allow it. We won't allow it."

"You can't guarantee me that." You counter. 

"I can and I will. Rest assured, your siblings are safe, but if you keep up this meddling then—"

"Then what, Moon?" You feel your frustration rising again, but keep your voice even. "What do you know that you're so obviously hiding? What are you trying to keep me from finding out? Are you in on this? Should I be scared?"

This angers him, grip tightening just a tinge. "No, never! How could you think such a thing?"

"You haven't give me much reason to think otherwise based on your actions—ah!" You jump, pulling back after feeling a sting against your cheek. Reaching up, you touch the spot, pulling away to see a small speck of blood. 

Looking over to Moon, he's horrified, eyes wide as he stares at your hand. 

"Selene I—" He reaches out for you, then sees the claw and buries his hand against himself. "I'm so sorry."

You put your hand to the spot again, an even smaller drop appearing on your finger. It was just a prick. A tiny one. You relax. "It's fine. You hadn't meant to."

"That's no excuse." He searches around, finding a handkerchief on his person and handing it to you.

You wave him away. "There's no need for that—"

He takes your hand, setting the cloth in it and folding your fingers around it. "Take it. Please." He squeezes your hand gently before letting go. 

You raise the handkerchief to your cheek, holding it there for a moment before pulling away. However, Moon insists you keep it there for longer, pressing his own hand against the back of yours for a bit to ensure you do. 

"I apologize for accusing you. It was wrong of me." You say, watching the dancers once more. 

Moon chuckles, it's half-hearted. "You have a right to be suspicious. I understand."

"That's no excuse." You repeat his words from earlier, glancing back to him with a small smile. 

It takes him a moment, then he laughs again, more genuine this time. 

"Hey! Time's up!"

Both of you turn to see Lisa standing in front of you, hands on her hips. 

You raise a brow. "Time's up for what?"

"It's my turn to hang out with Mr. Moon!" She says, huffing. "He promised he'd help me build a snowman for the competition!"

Moon laughs, standing up. "I was going to keep my promise. But I didn't want to interrupt your dancing."

Your sister turns to you pointing at you, then behind her. "It's your turn to dance with Mr. Sun."

"I, what?" You ask. "Lisa I'm not—"

She grabs your free hand, pulling on you with a strength no eight year old should have. "Hurry up! He's going to look silly if he doesn't have a partner when the next song starts!"

"Go on, I'm more than capable of watching them both." Moon urges and helps you to your feet. "Allow me the chance to prove that I mean what I say. If you may."

You glance back to him for a moment, then over to where Sun stands, sending you a wave with a mischievous glint in his eye. He did this on purpose. You turn back to Moon with a nod, offering him back his handkerchief, he shakes his head. 

"Keep it. I have no need for it."

You nod again, stuffing it in your pocket and looking down to your sister. You flick her forehead and she protests, releasing you finally. You bend down to her height, stern. "Have fun, but behave." You ruffle her hand and stand up again. "Love you."

She grumbles out a 'Love you too' and runs over to Moon, who picks up your brother. You give them a final wave goodbye as you walk over to where Sun stands, hands behind his back, grin as wide as ever. 

"You're not clever." You quip. 

He rolls on the balls of his feet, then offers his hand to you with a bow. "And you, owe me a dance."

"Keeping score are you?" You take his hand and he leads you into a spin amongst the other dancers. "I'd say you're well ahead if that's the case."

Much like his counterpart, he dances well, leading you effortlessly through the song. "Ah, ah. Let's keep that little bit of information to ourselves, shall we? We wouldn't want the wrong people to hear about it."

You laugh, shocked. "And you're cheating! My, my. I took you for a lot of things, a cheater wasn't one of them."

"Cheating implies I've done something unfair, but is it unfair if he was doing it first?"

"'He started it!'" You mock. "That's you, that's what you sound like."

Sun hums, but you see that small twitch in his eye that makes you grin. 

"You're better at this than I'd thought you be." He examines. 

You huff. "I take it back. Now you're losing severely."

"That's not up to you to decide." He thinks for a moment. "But if it was, are you say, open to bribery?"

You laugh outright, and shake your head. Maybe Moon was on to something when he said you should just let go when you dance. Let it take your worries away for a while and just enjoy the moment. 

Because wow, if it isn't something when you do.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

And to think, we still have four more chapters :D Just you wait, it gets so much worse. (for you. me personally? having the time of my life)

Well, thanks for reading!

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info, you can also dm me!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay

Bonus:

I left it up to fate that Sun would spend the night, like deadass (proof below)

So you can thank the wheel for that.

Buuuuttt I have another thing I'm debating (not nearly as intimate don't get getting ideas on me now) So,

What this was for will be revealed in the next chapter, and your implicit biases WILL be shown and i WILL tease you all for it /j

[blackdollette]

hi girly :33 I was wantin to request some euro x reader, where readers dating HELLHAMMER and is cheating on her, and euro knows (also likes you) so he gives you what he knows u deserve (smut please?) he’s super sweet to you too n shit, thank u!!

yes ma'am! this is so so delicious I cant 😫 

"you're fucking up big time." | euronymous

a&w. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @vanlisbon @livingdead-reilly @oliviah-25 @lankysimp @auggiethecreator @livingdead-materialgirl @monkeyfart

female!reader x jan axel (hellhammer) x euronymous *not threesome*

word count: 2.0k

contents: cheating, public sex, unprotected sex, missionary

“best friends forever” meant a lot of things. sharing beers at the bar after a good show, laughing at stupid jokes to cover up how much life was getting to you, or shutting up when he sees your boyfriend sneaking off in the middle of the night with the girl he told you not to worry about.

euronymous had been keeping a watchful eye on your relationship like a hawk since day one. though he’d never say it to your face, he hated how easy to get you were. how you’d fallen for hellhammer after his half-assed confession to you. the way you put your best leg forward in the relationship while he gave you absolutely nothing. but most of all, he hated how badly he wished to take the place of your boyfriend. but it was far too late. so now, all euronymous could do was watch the shitshow happen from afar, waiting for a chance to finally be with you.

you had never liked euronymous. whether it was because of the fear he instilled in your heart or his icy gaze that could kill any attraction you had for anyone else, you didnt know. so you kept a good distance between you and him. but no matter what you were doing with hellhammer, he always managed to make an appearance. mindlessly walking into the room while hellhammer fucked your brains out, or catching a brief glimpse of his toned build as he walked around shirtless in the den. he was relentless. 

right now, you were sitting on the raggedy couch backstage, flicking cigarette ashes off as you listened to their rehearsal. that was one of the perks of dating a band member: you always got to hang out backstage. but you couldn’t admit that it didn’t mean anything if your boyfriend never even looked your way. you watched him from afar. he was checking himself out in the mirror, spraying on expensive cologne that he’d never bothered to wear when he was with you.

the thought itched at the back of your mind that he was hiding someone from you, but you didn’t allow yourself to think that way. stuck in a web of your thoughts, your head snaps up, unintentionally meeting euronymous’ gaze. you can’t read his expression, but there are traces of desire, pity, and longing in his eyes, you feel your cheeks heating up as you locked eyes for a moment. you shot him a cold glare, causing him to sheepishly look back at the sheet music in front of him. if you didn’t know better, you’d think he actually knew what was going through your head.

he watched the way you were slumped on the couch as he mindlessly strummed the heavy chords on his guitar. the more miserable you were, the more he felt the need to reach out to you. he had been staring at you for longer than he intented to, and when you looked at him he’d even tried to muster a little smile. your reaction shut him down immediately, reminding him that the romance between you two would only remain inside his mind.

showtime managed to arrive faster than you anticipated. the bandmates began to make their way onto the stage, but hellhammer approached you with a cocky smirk spread across his face. “hold this for me, wouldya?” he tossed his leather jacket at you, it nearly scratching you. he walked off, holding a drumstick in each hand as you drowned in his unfamiliar scent.

euronymous was still standing a couple feet away, but his eyes were on you, slightly wide. you were about to scold him for keeping his eyes on you for too long, but your gaze followed his, finally landing on what he was seeing. right on the jacket’s collar laid a bright red lipstick stain in the exact colour that you never wore because he had said it looked hideous on you. then a latex condom wrapper slipped out of the pocket, landing right at your feet. judging your nonexistent sex life with hellhammer, there has never been a situation when you’ve needed one of those.

everything fell into place horrifically fast and before you knew it, you were on your knees, bawling as heavy sobs shook your body. you’d be lying if you said you’d never suspected it, but the reality of the situation was enough to throw your entire world off balance. you buried your face in your hands, wanting nothing more but to disappear. a gentle, calloused hand touched your shoulder, making you shiver. 

you looked up, black mascara running down your cheeks as you met euronymous’ gaze once more. his expression was blank, but his eyes told you that he’d seen this coming from a mile away. you coughed into your arm, your voice coming out as a croak. “y-you knew about this..?” his arm was now draped across your back, rubbing slow circles onto your soft skin. he sighed deeply. “i should’ve told you, i know. he never loved you. he’s been cheating the entire time.” his voice was extremely soft, but it felt like he’d just hit you with a brick.

you hid your face again, being hit by another wave of sobs. he cautiously pulled you closer to him, letting you rest your head on his chest. “i’m sorry…” his tenderness brought you a familiar sense of comfort. the same kind you felt after hellhammer had told you he loved you. hot tears streamed down your face. “why do you even care?! i swear, all of you guys are the same. heartless and cold and bitter.” you pushed yourself away from you, standing up and sitting down on the couch, wiping your tears and smearing the black mess on your face in the process.

he joined you on the couch, approaching you as if you were a bomb about to explode. the tears had dried from your face, but you felt as fragile as ever. you could hear music starting to play on stage, signalling the start of the concert. and instead of him being up there, he was here with you, trying to mend your shattered heart. 

a few minutes of silence had passed. you stared blankly ahead, trying to figure out how your life had gotten to this point. you looked a complete mess. your hair was scruffy, your makeup was ruined, nd your clothes were being held together by a string, leaving you completely vulnerable. euronymous sighed deeply before speaking. “jan is my best friend, but he doesn’t know when he has a good woman right in front of him.” 

you looked into his eyes deeply for the first time, seeing how he looked at you as if you were as precious as a diamond but as delicate as a snowflake. you look down. “h-how do you know im a good woman..?”euronymous didn’t even have to think about the answer to this question. he saw how loyal you were, how much time and energy you dedicated into your relationship, and your heart of gold underneath everything that you had been through. in his eyes, you were truly perfection. 

his answer was silent, but you knew exactly what he was thinking. it was only now that you realized you were squeezing his hand, digging your nails into his pale flesh. “o-oh..! i’m sor-” you tried to pull your hand away, but were cut off when he brought his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. you gasped softly into the kiss, feeling a shiver travel down your spine as his lips locked into yours so effortlessly.

your hands found his long black strands of hair, your fingers tangling themselves into it as he tongue began to explore your mouth. you began to melt as his hands wandered underneath your shirts, instantly getting access to your breasts. your nipples were brushed to stiff peaks as he massaged them with his thumbs. 

you laid back on the couch, not letting your lips disconnect for even a second. your legs were wrapped around his waist as he reached a hand down to hastily remove his belt, tossing it to the side. he kicked off his dark jeans and boxers, moving on to strip you of your clothing. you two didnt stop until you were both nude, your swollen lips finally leaving his. you panted, desperately trying to catch your breath as you started at his body.

it was good-looking from a distance, but it was a masterpiece when you were this close to it. his biceps flexed slightly as he propped himself above you, grinding his hard cock against your dripping cunt. you adjusted yourself slightly so that his tip with lined up with your entrance. before sliding in, he brought his lips to your ear, brushing the lobe slightly. “i finally get to treat you the way you deserve to be, baby…”

he pushed himself into you, groaning at the tightness of your walls. your eyes slammed shut as you scream, wrapping your arms and legs around him as you held onto him for dear life. he started fucking you slowly, making sure to watch your facial expressions to make sure that he wasn’t hurting you. as soon as your pain turned into pleasure, he could finally get started.

he pounded into you at a vigorous pace, causing the ground and everything around you to shake. when it came to his cock, big was an understatement. it was nine and a half inches of heaven that was sliding in and out of you. “y-you feel so good, darling…” he whispered sweet little things into your ear that made you melt underneath him.

he made no effort to try and hide his noises. “jan never fucked you like this, huh..? h-he never wanted you as bad as i did…” he admitted to admiring you from a far the whole duration of your relationship. everything he told you only increased your desire to cum all over his cock and claim him as your own.

you started to cry out as his balls slapped against your asshole, his long and firm fingers rubbing euphoric patterns onto your puffy clit. “f-fuck, euro..! r-right there…” you had never called him by his nickname before, and it turned him on so much to finally have you warm up to him. he sped up his pace until he was panting like a starved dog, desperate to bring you all the pleasure that you’d been deprived. 

“a-ah! i-i’m gonna cum-” you screamed as you began to gush all over his length, saturating the couch underneath you with your sweet liquids. your cunt tightened around him, filling him with ecstasy. with a few more lazy thrusts, he pulled out, pumping his cum all over your thighs and stomach, painting you like a perfect picture. your chest heaved up and down as you reeled over your orgasm. you could still feel cum dripping from your tight hole.

time turned elastic as you laid there naked with him on top of you, hearts beating in synch. then, the music outside stopped, followed by a loud round of applause. you and euronymous jumped up, hastily putting your clothes back on before heading to the door. he grabbed your shoulders, stopping you. “wait. there’s one last thing that i think we should do first…” you raised an eyebrow, but you quickly caught his drift. 

the band members came back in, hyped up about a good concert. but neither you or euronymous were in there. all that remained was hellhammer’s leather jacket, slashed in half and lying on top of the sticky mess that you had made with his best friend.

author's note: this request was too much fun to write. i fear I'm becoming obsessed with euro again 🤭

[vodika-vibes]

Hello, love~ I'm back for request #3!

This time, it's for my beloved baby boy Tup, with a garnet, and during the summer. But can you make it on the playful side? Playfully affectionate?

Please and thank you 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Under The Summer Sun

Summary: A hot day under the summer sun reminds you of just how much you love your Tu

Pairing: Clone Trooper Tup x F!Reader

Word Count: 586

Prompts: Garnet - Protective love, with added playful affection

Warnings: None (aside from a really bad joke, lol)

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Baby Boy Tup gets a happily ever after because I say so. Nothing bad has ever happened to him. Ever. Tragically, Google doesn't like my bad joke and kept trying to fix it.

“You’re going to burn into a crisp, and then what will I do?” Tup asks, laughter in his voice as he drops on the towel next to you, dripping cool water from the lake onto your overheated skin.

“Find a new girlfriend?” You reply sleepily as you stretch out on the towel, and then turn your head to peer at the man sitting next to you, “Or, just put up with having a girlfried, instead.”

Tup chokes out a laugh, “You’ve been spending way too much time with Fives and Echo if you think that was funny.”

“Mm, you still laughed though.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grabs a towel and tosses it over his head, to dry his dripping hair, “Are you sure you don’t want to go swimming with me? It’s fun~”

“Tup,” You say with a laugh, “Bikini’s are not made for swimming. They’re made for looking amazing in.”

He hums thoughtfully, and you can feel his heavy gaze dragging down your body, “Well, it’s working.”

“You’d say that if I was wearing a trash bag.”

“You’d make the trash bag look amazing,” He agrees with a grin.

“You’re ridiculous,” You say with an answering grin as you sit up. You reach out and tuck some of the wet hair sticking to his cheek behind his ear, “Are you having fun?”

He catches your hand and presses a feather light kiss to your knuckles, “Yeah. I am. Thank you for bringing me on your vacation.”

“Mm, thank Rex for allowing it.”

“Oh, I already have to bring him a souvenir.” Tup says dryly, “It’s payment for allowing me to come.”

“Oh? I can see you’re right on that.”

“I’ll bring him some sand. It’ll be fine.”

A giggle falls from your lips, “Tup,”

“Anyway! You need more sunblock or you’re going to burn and you won’t want me touching you.” Tup announces with a dramatic pout, “And, naturally, I need to put it on you.”

“Is that right?”

“To make sure you don’t miss any spots,” he adds seriously, though there’s a grin playing on his lips.

“Oh, naturally.” You reach into your bag and press a bottle of sunblock into his hands, “I’m sure you’ll be very thorough.”

“Uh-huh. So thorough.” He squirts some of the lotion into his hands, and then rubs his hands together, before he scoots closer to you and brings his hands to your face, “Eyes closed, cyare. As much as I love your pretty eyes, I would hate to get sunblock in them.”

Obediently you close your eyes and melt into his touch as he gently starts rubbing the lotion on your face, “You’re so much better at this then my mom.”

He laughs softly, “That right?”

“Mm. It always hurt when mom was rubbing the lotion in.”

His fingers glide over the shell of your ears, “Well, the last thing I want to do is hurt you while trying to protect you from the sun.” Tup pulls his hands away from your face, and you open your eyes to look at him. 

“You would never.” You murmur at him.

His hand comes back up to cup your cheek, “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re one to talk.” You tease, and you’re rewarded with his cheeks darkening slightly, “But thank you. When I’m with you I feel beautiful.”

“Good.” He leans in and brushes his lips against yours, “I love you, so much.”

You sigh and kiss him properly, sliding into his arms, to better hold him, “I love you too.”

[the-tomcat-disposable]

Short fic based off of this by @nami-ramen because I couldn't stop giggling about it

Summary: the Waldos take turns tossing around the detective. Why not play with their food a little bit?

TW: non consensual tossing?? I guess. Very briefly implied murder.

No beta read we die like Waldo's victims.

Shoutout to the dumb little joke me and @wyvernet made once about the Waldo clones calling each other who/what/when/where/how

The detective was by no means a morning person. They blinked their eyes open and groaned at the tightness in their head as their alarm blared obnoxiously. Ever since they were assigned to Waldo's case, they'd been getting headaches more frequently. They hoped that this wasn't the start of one. They reached over to the alarm clock and hit whatever button their hand landed on first to silence its beeping. Hesitantly, they carefully slid out of bed, wishing they could stay longer in their wife's hold, but their job was important.

After stretching and popping all their stiff joints, they yawned as quietly as they could, giving Wenda's sleeping form a gentle kiss on the cheek before dragging themselves to their shared closet. What Waldo would do to make their day worse is a mystery that they did not look forward to.

...

They did enjoy the morning commute to their office. The crisp air of autumn and the orange leaves illuminated by the rising sun made life feel so surreal. The morning news played through the radio, reminding people to stock up on candy for trick-or-treaters with a warning for parents to check their kids' bags afterwards for drugs and such. They detective sighed at that— it really was never as big of an issue as the news reported it to be, and they had the statistics to prove it, but they knew that there were people out there who were the reason that the lady reporting it needed to say it every year. They briefly wondered if taking a job as a news reporter would be better than the constant stress that Waldo puts them under.

"Make sure you stay warm! The weather this week—" the detective groaned as they tuned it out. Cold, yes, just like it was for the previous weeks. They saw frost settling on the ground and their breath forming a cloud when they exhaled, not to mention that they felt like a block of ice. That was plenty to know that they probably should have borrowed one of Wenda's scarves today, but it was too late. They had already pulled into a parking lot behind a coffee shop and noticed a barista catch sight of their car on the way in and run back to the kitchen.

Something rustled the leaves of the hedge behind the detective's car as they slammed the door and locked the car. They glared at the now unmoving leaves for a short while, always suspicious of a potential Waldo attack, and sighed with some disappointment when a cat jumped out of it and mrowed a greeting at them. It blended in very well with the orange and brown of it's surroundings.

"Hey, little guy—" they glanced at the cat's name tag, "Egg. You here for coffee too?" the detective questioned her, and she nipped their leg and ran off with a hiss.

"Ow! Rude! This is why I prefer dogs," they scolded. They swore they heard a chuckle as they walked to the front of the nearly empty coffee shop and entered. Thankfully, the barista had already had their coffee ready.

"Your coffee to go, Mr 'black with enough caffeine to kill a horse,'" the barista joked, wearing the forced smile that they were trained to wear, though it seemed genuine when they saw them. The detective reached into their coat and pulled $12 from their wallet to hand to the barista.

"It's still $12, correct?" the barista hummed an 'uh-huh' as they took the money and tossed it into the register. "Such a shame that this place isn't flooded with customers. It's that season when people usually do."

The detective sipped their coffee as they chatted with the barista. They'd attempted to ask questions about the Waldo case, though the detective would not answer them. A cat— maybe the same cat that bit them— yowled from outside, and the detective quickly thanked the barista before rushing back outside towards the parking lot to investigate the commotion.

"Ah, detective, hello! Fine morning, isn't it?" the tall, striped figure stood beside their car, holding the cat by the scruff and away from himself. He balanced on his cane and the cat yowled in terror as Waldo's grin widened impossibly wide before changing to look more human again. He dropped the cat and she scattered away faster than the detective had ever seen a cat run.

The detective blinked at Egg as she left then back at Waldo, who had moved slightly closer. The detective moved backwards the same amount of steps and silently prayed that they wouldn't meet the same fate as his predecessor who they considered to be a mentor. They chugged down a few more gulps of their coffee and felt it as the caffeine and heat properly woke them up.

"Couldn't you wait until I clocked in?" the detective scoffed. Waldo kept his distance and laughed over the sound of faint static from somewhere nearby.

"I believe this is a special occasion, detective. Why wait?" Waldo stepped closer. "Do you know what day it is, detective?"

"Fuck o—" the detected hissed as they stepped backward, cut off by long arms swooping them up bridal style. The surprise caused them to drop their coffee on the cement as they yelped at the sight of a second Waldo grinning mischievously at them. Would this be the end for them?

"Heads up!" was the last thing they heard before being hurled into the air with surprising force from such a lanky creature. They squeezed their eyes shut to brace themselves for the pain of the impact against solid ground but they hadn't landed against the cement. They opened their eyes to stare up at Waldo, then quickly afterwards, noticed three more clones standing in a circle. Their canes were each hooked around one arm as they held them both open.

They quickly understood what was happening as they attempted to escape Waldo's hold, though it was futile as his grip only tightened.

"Detective, struggling will get you hurt," Waldo scolded with a tsk-tsk-tsk. Before the detective could ask why he was tossing them back and forth between himself, Waldo shouted to one of them. They shouted curses as they were hurled into the air repeatedly with calls of "Where, catch!" or "How, catch!" which the detective gathered to be nicknames these pretend humans used for each other.

This continue for a while, until the Waldo nicknamed "What" had shouted to "Who" to catch. "Who" seemed different from the rest. The most notable difference being that his cane seemed lighter than the others'. They didn't have time to think on this, as they were thrown into the air once again before landing with a thud against "Who," both of them landing on the cement.

The Waldos all groaned with displeasure at this as three of them had cursed and disappeared with a crackle of electricity. The detective stood up to get a proper look at him. He was different. He looked almost just like the rest of the Waldos, except for small hairs above his lip. Before they had a chance to question this, Waldo scoffed and hooked his cane around the detective's neck and yanked them against his body and spun around, holding them there as they kicked and grabbed at the cane for what felt like longer than a few seconds.

"Detective, you had the opportunity to capture one of us just then, you realize?" Waldo grinned, purring with curiosity. He released the detective and with a gasp, they looked to where "Who" had been just moments ago. As expected from a Waldo, he wasn't there now.

"Damnit," the detective cursed as the last remaining Waldo hummed the tune of a Halloween classic. They looked solemnly at their spilled coffee on the ground, completely unsalvagable now. Their $12 was wasted all because Waldo thought a game of "catch the detective" would be funny. As a car horn honked in the distance, a static crackle sounded as they turned to lunge at Waldo, only to find a red envelope in his place.

"Dear detective, I appreciate your attempt to capture me, though you should have taken the chance to do so sooner. Don't cry over spilled coffee, now! You'll have an opportunity to stop by here again.

— Waldo"

[mono-dot-jpeg]

morning routine - jingyuan

summary; just a lion and his cub waking up

genre/extra tags; fluff, quite a bit of fluff, jingyuan is a single father no drama (/ref), reader is younger than yanqing

[platonic] [5-9 year old! reader] [gender neutral reader]

word count; 523

a/n; this made me realize that i dont remember the last time i watched the lion king. but nonetheless, i am a man of the people and i give them what they want (within reason). it's kind of close to the scene im pretty sure you're talking abt but i just changed it a bit. hope you enjoy!

also i realized, looking at jingyuan's art, mimi has a mane so mimi would realistically be a boy, no? but like mimi is referred to it/its. i mean honestly mimi being a boy is cute to me KSDJKSJ and also it makes sense since mimi had a mane and lionesses dont. whatever-

daylight burns into the window, waking you up earlier than your lazybones dad. but to be fair, anyone could wake up earlier than him. he was a hardworking man. for the most part. but he was a single father too. your father.

you cherish the time you spend with him every day. you may not know everything but he teaches you everything. he tells you of the world you both live in, how there is war and peace, how someday you would have to lead alongside him and yanqing. you were enamored with the world that people have helped build. and you were determined to help protect it.

but for now, you can still be a kid.

"dad!" you press a hand on his face, squishing his cheek. "dad wake up!" you push against him, hearing his grumbling as he turns to face away from you. "dad!" you whined. you brush your head against his heavy white locks as if you were a cat. "we were gonna spend the day together. wake up!"

"you wake up earlier than me, are you sure you're my kid?" he jokes tiredly as he laughs.

"come on! let's go papa!" you climb over him, earning a grunt and groan as you slide off the bed. you make your way to get ready. you see mimi striding out of his bed, yawning and stretching. "hi mimi! good morning!" you greeted the large lion, who brushes against you chuffing a tired greeting. "papa! hurry!" you called out to him, you can hear your father shuffling around the bedroom and grumbling his responses.

you feel yourself get picked up before you can open the bathroom door. you laugh as jingyuan tosses you up for a moment and catches you, holding you under his arm like a sack of flour. "you already have too much energy in the morning. we have some time to relax."

"you promised you would teach me today!" you squirmed in his hold as he opens the door to the bathroom.

"well, let's not get too hasty." he hummed, placing you on your feet and onto your step stool in the bathroom. he doesn't say it out loud but he wonders how much faster you're going to grow up or how much faster you want to grow up. "i'll teach you when the time is right. for now, you have to learn how to be a kid."

"but 'm already a kid! i wanna be like you!" you start to brush your teeth. jingyuan takes his time to get you ready as he's fixing your bedhead and pinching your cheeks, making you whine through your brushing.

he smiles gently, "you don't need to be me. you can be you. the world is yours, alright?" he pats your head as you nodded rapidly.

when you finish brushing your teeth, you raise your arms to him to get carried. he obliges and you hug him tightly. "i'm gonna make this world the best for us!"

"well, you have to get out of your pajamas first for that." he chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours as a sign of affection.

[softspiderling]

how you get the girl | d.h.

summary: it's been six months since derek stopped replying to your texts, so why was he suddenly standing in front of your door?

pairing: derek hale x reader, nickname "brooklyn"

word count: 3,2k

warnings: cursing

author's note: hello hello and welcome to the first fic of series inspired by taylor swift's 1989! we're starting off strong with how you get the girl. all the fics a part of this series are connected, but it's not necessary to read all of them to understand the plot though it is recommended by me. also i think you should know that i have adopted a way of avoiding the use of Y/N by giving my readers a nickname (courtesy of the top gun fandom) which is brooklyn/b. hope it's okay!! tagging @stilinskiderek bc i know she's been waiting for this. title is from taylor swift's how you get the girl

You had almost missed the tentative knocks on your front door with the endless rain pelting against your roof and all your windows, until the knocks became louder and more incessant. “I’m coming!” you shouted, wrapping your cardigan tighter around your frame as you padded to the front door. As you swung it open, you had to stop yourself from slamming the door shut again when you saw who was standing on your front porch. Derek lifted his head, his hair wet and stuck against his skin. If you hadn’t known that werewolves were basically a walking furnace, you’d guess he was shaking from the cold rain and invite him in. But alas, he probably wasn’t even cold and there was also the thing where you were super mad at him.

“Are you insane?”

Derek blinked at you and then had the audacity to give you a small smile. “Hey. It’s been a while, huh?”

Really? Six months of radio silence and that was the thing he decided to open with? You let out a sigh of disbelief and moved to shut the door in his face, before Derek put his foot in the gap, his hand pushing it back open.

“Wait, wait! I’m sorry!”

Reluctantly, you slowly pulled the door open again, glaring at him.

“What do you want?”

Derek gestured inside your house, small rain droplets flinging from his sleeve.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Can you give me a reason to?”

Your eyes were hard and Derek realized how serious you were being. He sighed softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I can explain, okay? Can you just let me in? Please?”

Contemplating, you were quiet for a second before you opened the door wider for him to come in.

“Stay. I’ll get you a towel, don’t need you to track your muddy paws into my house,” you said, heading to your closet to grab him a towel. You knew the dog jokes were a low blow but you didn’t really care. Grabbing a spare towel from the shelf, you returned to Derek who apparently had taken his shoes off. His jacket was hanging off a coat rack and he was standing by the dresser, holding a picture frame. You knew exactly what picture it was. Instead of trying to find an excuse you tossed the towel at him, fully intending to sock him in the face with it, but he was still a werewolf, catching it easily with one hand. He put the picture back and dried himself off.

“Thanks.”

You forwent an answer and instead picked up the picture frame, putting it in the back; the image of you kissing Derek on the cheek being obscured by pictures of Isaac, Kira and Stiles. You could feel Derek’s eyes on you, but when you turned back to him, he was hanging his jacket on the coat rack, the towel around his neck.

Giving him a brief once over, you noticed that he looked good. Well-nourished and healthy. At least he wasn’t being held in some rotten basement. But that meant he didn’t really have an excuse for why he ghosted you.

“How long have you been in town?”

“Just got in. I just checked into the loft before I came here,” Derek said, toweling his hair dry with a frown.

“What, didn’t you have to announce your presence to the Alpha for breaching his territory?” you said, somewhat mockingly and Derek gave you a look. You just rolled your eyes at him, growing impatient.

“You said you were going to explain.”

Derek nodded, but it was clear that he was struggling to find his words. So much for that explanation.

“If you don’t have anything to say Derek, you can just leave,” you sighed, exhausted and disappointed at the same time. “That’s what you’re best at, right?”

Without waiting for an answer, you walked over to the couch, sitting down, but Derek was hot on your heels, clearly agitated.

“You knew I was trying to get Cora out of here, I was trying to keep her safe!”

“Yeah, but that was before you completely went AWOL and stopped returning my texts,” you interjected, glaring at him. “Six months, Derek. I didn’t even know if you were alive or not.”

Derek scoffed, glaring at the floor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t-” he broke off with a frustrated huff, dropping down on the arm chair across from you. “I’m sorry I made you worry. That wasn’t my intention… I wanted to text you. I did, but I didn’t now what to say or how to explain myself… When I dropped Cora off with her old pack I envied her that she was able to start new after everything that happened. And I guess seeing her so happy and burden free… It made me wonder what I wanted out of my life.”

And it apparently wasn’t you?

You crossed your arms, burrowing deeper into the couch, not really liking his explanation so far. Did he just come here to insult you and make everything worse?

“Would you let me finish explaining before you plan my demise?” Derek asked dryly and your eyes snapped up at him, realizing that he could smell the anger coming off of you. You jerked your chin, telling him to continue.

“At first I stayed with Cora for a while, thought I could settle with a new pack but I didn’t feel right. Not really.” Derek rubbed the back of his neck. “I flew back here and picked up my car, started driving. I guess I just felt free for the first time, which I didn’t mind, but I really missed you so that’s when I started writing you letters.”

Wait, what?

“Hold up,” you said, waving your hands around for good measure. “Letters? What letters? I didn’t get any letters.”

Derek stared at you for a good minute, the tips of his ears turning pink honest to god. With a small exhaled stood up, disappearing into the hallway. For a split second, you were actually scared that he’d leave again, as you scooted to the edge of the couch, ready to jump up and follow him as soon as you heard the front door shut but Derek returned, a small brown package in his hand. You allowed yourself to sink back into the couch and Derek pretended not to notice as he unwrapped the paper wrapper slowly, revealing a stack of letters. He put the stack on the coffee table, pushing it in your direction as you stared at it. It had to be about 20 letters, all addressed to you, stamped and everything, just not mailed.

Mouth agape, you looked at Derek, who was resolutely staring at the floor.

“At first I felt stupid. But then I just thought about what I would tell you if this letter was addressed to you and then it just got so much easier writing it all down.” Derek glanced at you, face guarded. “You don’t have to read them. It’s not an excuse for not texting or calling, but-”

“I’m gonna read them.”

Derek raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I mean, I don’t forgive you.” Not yet, at least. “But I will read them.”

Derek huffed out dry laugh, sounding amused. “That’s fair, I guess.” He took another deep breath. “About two months after I left, something started changing in me. I felt like I was losing my abilities, my strength. I felt weaker.”

“What? What happened?”

“I don’t know. I met up with an old pack that my mother used to know. They helped me figure out what was going on,” Derek explained and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“And? Don’t leave me hanging, what happened?”

Derek grimaced. “I think it’s better if show you.”

You had no idea what he meant, watching him intently as he got up. When he started taking off his shirt, your mouth flew open. “What the hell are you doing? Stop taking your clothes off!”

Derek glared at you, tossing his shirt on the arm chair before he disappeared behind the book shelf. You heard his belt hitting the floor and there were about a hundred thoughts racing through your head, trying to find a logical explanation for his behavior when a huge black wolf came out into the living room. Your eyes widened and instinctively you backed up against the couch, even as the wolf somehow gave you a look.

“Derek?”

The wolf flashed his eyes, a brilliant blue, the ones you loved so much on Derek, and you covered your mouth with your hand.

“Holy shit!”

The wolf, Derek, came around the couch and padded towards you, nosing his snout on your knee. You patted his head gently, fingers diving into the black fur, that was surprisingly soft. For some reason you had expected it to be hard and coarse. He let out a soft whine, pushing his head closer into your hands.

“Who’s a good doggy?”

You knew the dog jokes were so old but Stiles would’ve never forgiven you for not using this opportunity. Derek growled, snapping his teeth at you playfully before retreating behind the couch. For a second he stayed still then somehow shifted back into his human form. Wincing, you kept your eyes on his face as he walked back behind the book shelf, presumably to put his clothes back on.

“That’s insane, Derek,” you told him when he came back around, pants back on. “Your mother and Laura could turn into a wolf, too right? So, is it like a Hale gene thing, or?”

Derek shrugged, picking his shirt back up to put it on. “I don’t know. There’s not really a record of werewolves that can fully shift, but there are others who can do it. It’s unclear as to what triggers the transformation, though.” He sat back down on the arm chair, somewhat uncomfortable. Clearly he was much more open with his emotions as a wolf.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really. It’s a bit uncomfortable, but it’s not like I can actually feel my bones changing.. I’ve always felt like I was… Incomplete. But when I fully shifted for the first time, it was so freeing. Like I finally achieved what I’ve been working towards my whole life.

“So, you finally got your life in order, huh? Got everything you want?”

Derek shifted nervously on the chair and you knew what he was struggling with. You didn’t know yet if you were going to make it easy on him.

“I called you every day.”

“I know and it took everything in me not to pick up.”

“You’ve got a lot of amends to make.”

And he did. Not only with you, there were people he hurt even before he left and you didn’t even have to say a name for Derek to know who you were talking about. He must have known as soon as he stepped into the house.

“Yeah. That is mostly also why I didn’t want to let him down again, I wanted to be able to protect him before I came back.”

Even if you could forgive Derek and take him back, you couldn’t promise it would help salvage Derek’s relationship with Isaac. Their bond was different and you didn’t want to intervene in it. It was Isaac’s decision to whether he would forgive Derek or not. You knew Derek cared a lot for Isaac, but he hurt him. It wasn’t something that Isaac could easily get past.

“I know I hurt you,” Derek started. “And I know it’s going to take a lot of work for you to trust me again not to leave. But I promise, I won’t leave again. Ever. You’re it for me, Brooklyn.”

You startled at the use of the old nickname. It has been a while since he called you that.

“I’ll wait for as long as it takes for you to trust me again. And even if we only stay friends, that’s fine with me. I’ll take you in any way you’ll have me.”

Your mouth was open, but you couldn’t find the words. While you’ve know how Derek felt for you, he had never actively said it, like you said, Derek was a man of little words.

“Are you seeing someone else?” Derek’s tone was mostly neutral, but you could tell there was an edge to it. Wolves have always been kind of jealous, and Derek wasn’t really an exception.

“Didn’t you just say you’d be fine with being friends?” You asked sharply and Derek clenched his jaw, lowering his head. You let him simmer in disappointment for a while before you sighed.

“Okay.”

Derek lifted his head, frowning at you. “Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll give you another chance.”

The smile that appeared on Derek’s face was almost worth all the pain he’d put you through for the past six months. Almost. He stood up and walked over to you, slowly, as if he was scared you’d change your mind. Lowering himself in front you, he took his hands into your, holding them tightly, but not so much that it hurt.

“If you’re gonna leave again, that’s it, Derek, you hear me?” you warned him and he nodded quickly, intently.

“I’m never leaving again.”

You huffed. annoyed, but appeased. You knew it took a lot for a born wolf to be kneeling in front of a human like this. Not that he had a higher rank than you. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I’m not,” Derek insisted. “Didn’t you hear what I said? You’re it for me. I love you.”

Rolling your eyes, you flushed. “Shut up.”

Derek opened his mouth to say something, but he tensed, stopping. You were about to ask what was wrong, when you heard the door open.

“Hey, I’m home!” Isaac called, shutting the door behind him. That explained Derek’s tense shoulders. “Shit, it’s crazy out there.”

You could hear him shaking his jacket out, cluttering in the hallway.

“Hey, why does it smell like-” Isaac’s footsteps came closer, until they stopped and you looked at him, frozen in the door way.

“Derek.”

Isaac's presence was a comfort to you, and you appreciated the way he didn't make things awkward between you and Derek. But you also knew that Isaac was hurt by Derek kicking him out, of the pack and his loft.

"You smell like wet dog," you teased Isaac, trying to lighten the mood.

Isaac grinned, "Yeah, it's been raining cats and dogs outside."

Derek cleared his throat. He squeezed your hand before he got up, walking over to his first beta. Isaac’s eyes flickered to you, but you shrugged your shoulders. It was his choice.

“I’m sorry for the way I handled things with you after- after Boyd died. I was trying to protect you and I know I went at it the wrong way. Im not sorry for trying to protect you, you’re pack. I care about you. But I should’ve done it differently,” Derek said, grimacing. He looked like he about hit his word limit of the day.

Isaac didn’t reply and you could tell he was conflicted as his hands curled into fists. You held your breath, knowing this could go either way, with Isaac being loyal to a fault and Derek was the first person gave him the chance to get away from his father.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Isaac then said, gently, and you exhaled slowly. He didn’t really acknowledge Derek’s apology, but you knew that was going to take time. This was a good start. He gave Derek a small smile, it was guarded, but it was a smile. Isaac’s eyes flitted over to you and he pointed towards his bedroom. “I'm gonna go change. I'm soaked. Can we do pizza for dinner?"

”Sure,” you agreed and Isaac bobbed his head twice, before going towards his room. When you heard his door shut, you turned to Derek, lifting a brow. “You’re lucky. Isaac has a big heart.”

Derek breathed a sigh of relief, looking at you with gratitude. "Yeah… I know I still got a long way ahead of me, but I’m glad he’s giving me another chance.”

As the rain continued to pound outside, the three of you settled in for a quiet evening of pizza and movies. Even though the three of you acted like this was just like before, it was obvious that everyone was walking on egg shells around each other. It was going to take longer before things would really get back to the way it was before.

“Hey, did you just pick the pepperoni off my pizza?!”

Or maybe not that long.

-

Dear Brooklyn,

I miss you more than words can express. It's been three months since I left and I still can't shake the feeling that I made a mistake. I am sorry for not responding to your texts and calls, but at the time, I just couldn't bring myself to talk to you. I was going through something, something that I didn't understand and I didn't want to burden you with it. But now, I realize that I should have at least told you what was going on. I'm sorry for shutting you out.

Something's happening to me, Brooklyn. I don't know what it is, but it feels like I am losing my strength. I wonder if it’s punishment from the universe for leaving you. I'm trying to figure it out, but it's difficult. I feel like I'm running out of time. I know you and Stiles would hit the books as soon as you find out about it, but I don't want to trouble you. I'm trying to get in contact with my mother's old allies to see if they can help me. That's why I'm in New York.

Being back here without you or Laura is hard. Everything reminds me of you both. I miss you so much, Brooklyn. You were always there for me, even when I didn't deserve it. And I'm sorry for hurting you. I know I have a lot of making up to do. But I promise you this, I will make it up to you. I will never leave you again.

I hope you're well and happy. How's Isaac? I know he's probably still mad at me, and I don't blame him. I messed up. But I'm glad you two have each other. Maybe you can both be mad at me together. I hope I can fix things when I come home. But even if you don't want to take me back, I'll understand. I just want to be in your life, Brooklyn.

Please take care of yourself.

Derek.

[endless-summer-soldier]

cruel to be kind - chapter six

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (90s college AU)

summary: it started with a dare. Bucky restlessly pursues Y/N, seeking just one date. as he chases her, he realizes she's different from she challenges him, so he starts to catch feelings. but it all falls apart when she learns about his initial motivations. based on 10 things I hate about you!

warnings: alcohol use, cursing

word count: 1.5k

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Y/N sat on a baja blanket, staring out into the ocean, wondering if he would come. Sam confirmed he was able to sneak Bucky the mixtape, but Y/N wasn’t sure that he had decoded her message. On the tracklist, she underlined different letters and numbers that read “Sat 2PM 7th St Beach.” It was subtle, which was her style, but she wasn’t even sure he would figure it out. Hell, he might not even have noticed the pattern. In her mind, it was almost like a test. If he didn’t decode the message, then things weren’t meant to be. 

She eyed the book sitting in her lap, willing herself to at least try to read to distract her mind. But everytime she finished a page, she checked her watch to see what time it was. It was now 1:56 and the weight residing in her stomach grew heavier. Who was she kidding, he wasn’t going to show up. This whole thing was stupid and she was kicking herself for ever thinking it was a good idea. She hated this feeling. This was why she pushed people away. Being vulnerable was the easiest way to get hurt. 

And now a tear was falling down her cheek. She was so in her head about things that she was crying. She quickly wiped the single tear off her cheek and laid back on the blanket, placing the open book over her face. She had to get her shit together. She would not be the girl crying over a guy. Y/N took in a deep inhale and breathed out of her mouth, calming her nervous system. The oxygen was all she needed to clear her head. Her decision was made.

She stood in the sand and tossed her book in her bag. She folded up her blanket and collected her sandals, trudging through the sand to the boardwalk.

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving already. I’m only a few minutes late, and for good reason.” Bucky stood in front of her, in his signature leather jacket, with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“What are you doing here,” she stated more than asked, adding a few more bricks to the wall that was guarding her heart.

“I got your message,” he smiled. He walked closer towards her and handed her a cup of coffee. “Figured we had some catching up to do,” he added.

She stood there, still processing this. He came. He figured out the message and he showed up. He passed the test. She hadn’t really thought through what would actually happen if he came. And now here he was, standing in front of her.

Before she could respond, Bucky stepped closer, taking the blanket out of her hands and splaying it out over the sand.

“Come on,” he urged her. She didn’t object, sitting down next to him as they looked out onto the ocean.

“I’ve never heard you this quiet before. You usually have a biting remark queued up as soon as you see me.”

“I do not,” she argued.

“See, that’s better already,” he joked, giving her shoulder a light nudge.

“I didn’t think you would come,” she admitted.

“You didn’t think I would come or you didn’t think I would decode your message?”

 “The latter is probably a bit more accurate,” she said sheepishly.

“I know it may seem like I’m just a pretty face, but I’ve been known to have clever thoughts every so often.”

His attempts at getting her to loosen up were moderately successful, but she still wasn’t willing to open up just yet. Luckily, Bucky had planned for this. He knew this conversation would take some work.

“Are you happy to see me here?” he asked.

She let out a sigh, “I am. I hate to admit this, but I missed you these past few weeks.”

Bucky placed a hand over his heart, “You missed me?”

She hit his bicep with the back of her hand, “Don’t make me say it again.”

“I missed you too. And all I wanted was to talk to you and explain things. So thank you for giving me the opportunity to do that.”

She merely nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“So let me start by admitting that I am a complete idiot and I probably don’t even deserve a second chance, but I appreciate you giving me a chance to redeem myself.”

“Good start,” she commented.

“I agreed to the dare just to get Zemo to shut up. And I think the only reason I really went for it is because you intrigued me. I always found you attractive but I never pursued you because…well honestly you don’t come across as very friendly.”

Y/N chuckled and he continued.

“And then when I first talked to you, it was like I had this need for you to like me. I wanted to figure out what made you tick, and the more time I spent with you, the more I liked you. I need you to know that everything I said was true and that the person you spent all that time with was the real me. The dare just gave me a reason to talk to you. These past few weeks I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I haven’t been eating, I’ve barely slept, knowing that I hurt you has been killing me. I can promise you, I will never hurt you again. I think I might be in love with you, and this is the first time I’ve ever felt this way so I’m still figuring it all out, but I will do anything to win you back. I’ll bring you breakfast every morning, I will carry all your books and walk you to class every day, I will give you my car. Whatever you need, I’ll do it. Just please, give me another chance.”

She was quiet for a second, processing his words. 

“Could you, like, say something?” he asked nervously, struggling to read her expression.

“I’m thinking,” she responded. “Did you rehearse that?”

He was confused by her question, but answered anyway. “I mean I had points I wanted to hit on. I think I may have strayed a little bit towards the middle but I think I ended strong.”

She gave him a small smile, “Do you really mean it all or are you just telling me what I want to hear?”

He took her hand, “Y/N, I’m not here to bullshit you. I mean every single word. You are the world to me.”

“You used the l-word,” she commented. Bucky found it cute that she couldn’t say love. 

“Yeah I wasn’t planning on saying that, but it’s true. I do love you.” He ran his thumb up and down the back of her hand. She was quiet again, thinking through her response. She never took this long to respond, usually she went with whatever popped into her head. Bucky took her hand and placed it to his chest. “Do you feel that? How fast my heart is beating? It gets like that every time I’m around you. And my stomach always feels like there’s a million butterflies fluttering around in there. You do that to me.”

“I love you too.” It fell off her lips so easily, Bucky thought he must have misheard. 

“You do?” he asked in disbelief. She bit her bottom lip and shyly nodded her head, trying to hide the smile on her lips. He lost control. He lunged at her, essentially tackling her down onto the blanket as he squeezed her into a tight hug. When he pulled away ever so slightly, his face hovered above hers. 

“Are you gonna let me kiss you?” he asked. She simply nodded and his lips were on hers, making up for their lost time. It almost scared her, how easily she fell back into the kiss. Her hand found his jaw as she held him close, not wanting him to leave her vicinity. This was the moment she’d been waiting for and it didn’t disappoint. The spark was there, the longing was there, the love was there. And in that moment she knew that she never wanted to be without him.

They kissed and cuddled for a while and then they sat there together and watched the sunset. Y/N leaned back into Bucky’s arms as he kept her warm from the crisp autumn air. They talked about nothing and everything, trying to catch up on the weeks they had missed. And in that moment she knew she would never grow tired of this. He had somehow managed to thaw her frozen exterior and taught her that love was worth the risk of pain. 

As it started to get darker, they packed up their spot on the beach and headed back to the boardwalk. She knew she wasn’t leaving his side tonight. She’d spent too much time away from him and she wasn’t ready to separate just yet.

“Keys please,” she said, holding out her hand. 

“Oh are you driving?” he asked skeptically.

“Well yeah, it is my car now,” she replied easily.

Bucky leaned his head back, “Of course, how could I forget.” He placed the keys in her open hand, before wrapping his strong arm over her shoulder and pulling her in close to kiss her temple. 

[darrys-laundry]

🧯🧯🧯🧯🧯

part one, part two, part three for this tag game:

(assuming you want more than three sentences by the amount of emojis, lol ;))

“Who’s Ángel Hernández?” Evan asks once Sal’s left, and Bobby’s invited Tommy to join them for breakfast. Tommy’d had the same question.

“This baseball umpire,” Eddie starts to explain, pulling grapes from the stem at the kitchen island; and he tosses one behind his back for show, catching it in his mouth when it arches back around his shoulder.

Tommy snorts, impressed, and he settles into his old seat at the table as if seven years haven’t passed since the last time he’d done so, “How long did it take you to nail that one?”

“Taught myself in high school.” Eddie shrugs, his mouth full as he catches a second grape, just to prove that he can; and he grins as he pelts one at Evan’s face, striking just above his lip. Evan too slow to realize he’d needed to catch.

“I think you were supposed to catch that one, Buck.” Chimney says, observant as ever, and Eddie pitches one his way, Chimney fumbling it at the last second.

“The Dodgers don’t want you.” Tommy jokes, reaching to give Chimney a sympathetic pat on the back as Hen sidles up to the back of his chair, hands splayed along the top rail, “Hasn’t Cap ever told you boys not to play with your food?”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Evan says pointedly, a little put out, and Tommy knows it’s only because he likes having answers, “A-And I want a do over.”