#especially since she's an older lady already

[canisalbus]

My mother and I went to meet this dog today. She's a senior dog with a skin condition so her legs are hairless. Her name's Harriet and she was previously in a pet hoarding situation so she just hides in the closet for most of the day, I thought you'd like to see her.

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[daistea]

Since you take requests, would I be able to ask for something with Mithrun and Kabru with like a reader that's kind of dense with social cues/hints (especially if they're romantic)?

(I had people confess their love to me, and I still didn't get it till they put it in very clear terms)

(it's probably the 'tism, but I digress. )

I think it's potentially an absolutely hellerious dynamic since Kabru always plays 5D chess with every social interaction. As for Mithrun, I think it's funny to think how the other canaries would just be repeatedly hitting their head on the wall because their captain won't say it straight and they just don't g e t i t.

Ps: I absolutely love how in-depth all of your understanding of characters and their personalities are, and I just hxfhxdvgudts.

This blog just brings me so much joy

Yaaa!!

“Iᴛ’s ᴀ Dᴀᴛᴇ” Kᴀʙʀᴜ x Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, Mɪᴛʜʀᴜɴ x Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

gn reader

5000 words ;P

Warning: reader is very oblivious. Like incomprehensibly oblivious (for the lolz)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

♡ Kabru ♡

- Kabru has had little flings here and there throughout his life. He treated every partner with respect, of course, but Kabru wasn’t particularly looking for love. He doesn’t dislike the idea of love, it just hasn’t happened yet.

- So, when Kabru starts to genuinely fall in love with someone, it’s a new feeling. He’s observant enough to recognize what it is.

- Unfortunately, the person he’s falling in love with is you.

“He’s been unusually quiet lately,” Holm remarked. Who he was remarking that to remained to be seen. Mickbell didn’t care much. Kuro had other things to worry about. And Rin had already made the same observation three times earlier that day.

The first floor of the dungeon was always crowded, and Kabru’s ears were usually open for anything that could be of use. The leather armor merchant to his left had recently raised his prices. The cobbler to the right was in an argument with an older lady over the shape of a patch he’d made on her favorite boots. And Holm was concerned about Kabru’s recent lack of observations; as concerned as Holm could be.

“Is that really such a shock?” Kabru sent Holm a smile over his shoulder. “I’m not exactly a chatterbox.”

But he was aware of himself enough to know that his behavior lately had been odd. He was usually so good at hiding it, too, but the comfort of his friends seemed to lower his walls. Without realizing it, Kabru had spent their latest dungeon expedition sighing to himself, staring at walls, and missing the details of important things. On the third floor, they’d encountered thieves. His party always relied on him to clock the intentions of approaching adventurers— thieves tended to be overly familiar, friendly, and a bit too eager— but Kabru’s mind was elsewhere. The thieves attacked, and it had genuinely taken him by surprise. The fight wasn’t hard, but Kabru’s lack of preparation set off alarms in Rin and Holm’s heads.

“You’re not,” Rin agreed. Her brow furrowed and she got that cute little line on her forehead again. “However, you’ve really been out of it.”

“Have you been thinking about that person again?” Holm asked.

That person. That person? Kabru knew a lot of persons. The whole first level was filled to the brim with persons, half of them being his acquaintances. Kabru had zero desire to admit that he knew precisely who Holm was referring to, though, and decided to keep his gaze straight ahead as he weaved through the crowd.

When he didn’t respond, Mickbell laughed, “Yeah, he’s thinking of them alright.”

“Heat?” Kuro asked.

Mickbell scoffed from his place on Kuro’s shoulders, “Tall-men don’t go into heat! At least I don’t think so. But they catch feelings, like a cold. Kabru’s caught a cold.”

“Not sneezing,” Kuro mumbled.

“A feelings cold, I mean! The worst kind.”

That was one way to put it. Kabru couldn’t help but sigh as he led the party towards a quieter spot in the corner. Once they were out of the sea of people, he leaned against the stone wall and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t have feelings, I’m simply curious,” he said.

Curious. Right. Mickbell sent him a scrunched up, narrow-eyed look that was reminiscent of constipation. Yet, Rin interjected before the half-foot could say something heinous. “What’re you curious about, particularly?” She asked.

“Good question,” Kabru folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head in thought.

What was he curious about? You held so many secrets. You had this look in your eyes that drew him, a look that reminded him of a room in his mother’s house. She always told him to not go inside. Her rules only made him want to turn the knob even more. And when he finally did disobey her and go inside, all he saw were boxes full of ceramic unicorn miniatures. Still, the rush of satisfaction he’d felt at finally knowing what was in there couldn’t be matched. That’s what he wanted to do to you, open your door and take a peek.

Or, perhaps a ‘peek’ was an understatement. He wanted to meticulously inspect every inch of your mind with a microscope, to know the atoms unseen by the human eye, to be intimately acquainted with every molecule you possessed.

“He’s zoned out again,” Holm muttered, ripping Kabru out of his thoughts.

He looked up, eyes widening at the observation. Holm was right, he was zoned out again, staring at the dirt on the floor and contemplating you.

He forced a smile, “Don’t worry about me, really. I’m just preoccupied. It’s that person, I simply want to know their intentions.”

“Intentions for what?” Rin asked.

For everything. There was no simple answer.

“Oh hey,” Mickbell glanced over his shoulder. His voice was flat as he scanned the room, “There they are.”

Kabru followed Mickbell’s gaze, a straight line that led directly to you— all lines seemed to lead directly to you lately. His heart clenched in a way that was both unpleasant and addictive. Without realizing it, he pushed away from the wall and began striding toward where you stood.

“Wait,” Rin grabbed his arm as he passed. Kabru blinked, looking down at her and waiting for her to speak. She met his eyes and frowned, “I think you’re going to be disappointed. They’re not as mysterious as you think they are.”

Nonsense. You were incredibly mysterious. Kabru could tell you had secrets, layers. He dreamed of pulling them back one by one.

“They couldn’t disappoint me,” he sent Rin a smile that he hoped was reassuring— he knew it was, he’d practiced it in the mirror and on other people all the time.

“I think they will,” she argued.

“They won’t,” his smile faltered just the slightest. Rin didn’t usually get involved in Kabru’s… hobby. Did she know something he didn’t? He decided to not ask outright, accepting the challenge of figuring out the meaning behind her concern on his own.

Rin let go of his arm and Kabru was free to go. His mind switched elsewhere, onto you, and before he knew it he was already slipping through the crowd of bodies to reach you.

You were in front of the vegetable seller’s stand, inspecting a lumpy potato. Kabru knew the vegetable seller was cheating on his wife. Usually, he’d try to get more out of the man, digging deeper simply for the sake of knowing. Yet, you stood there, beautiful and mind-consuming. What did Rin mean by ‘I think you’re going to be disappointed’? Kabru was rarely disappointed with secrets.

“Hey,” he raised a hand as he neared. You looked up from the potato and returned his smile. There was that look in your eyes again, that closed door he desperately needed the key to.

He loved crowds. He loved the hundreds of voices. He loved listening to each one and assigning them meaning, picking apart their words, filing them away into neat little categories. Yet, the crowd might as well have disappeared. All he saw was you. All he wanted was you and your words and your thoughts and your fears and your goals and your likes and your dislikes and your intentions and your—

“Oh hey,” your voice cut through the wants like the slash of a sword, “Kapru.”

Kapru.

His brows furrowed and he plastered on a polite smile— also practiced in the mirror. “It’s Kabru.”

“Right, sorry,” you shrugged.

Were you playing with him? Were you sending your pawn out, a piece that you expected him to take for the sake of a larger, more powerful move? Was it bait?

“How are you?” He forced himself to ask, though he could hear the weakness in his voice. He desperately hoped you wouldn’t notice.

You only tilted your head in thought, “I’m fine. Just buying potatoes.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other,” Kabru said. It was a lie, you saw him last week. “My party and I are about to go back to the surface to restock. We could grab a drink if you wanted.”

“Why?” You asked.

Why? Why? Kabru couldn’t say why. He wouldn’t say why. ‘I want to take detailed notes on every word you say, every gesture, every breath’ wouldn’t be helpful to his cause in the least.

“Because we’re friends,” he slowly explained. Again, there was that hint of weakness lacing every syllable. He wanted to tear his voice box apart and reconstruct it in a way that wouldn’t falter every time he saw you.

But you didn’t seem to notice. “Alright,” you sent him a smile that made his heart clench.

Alright. Kabru’s smile relaxed, “Alright,” he echoed. “It’s a date.”

‘It’s a date’ was a common saying, of course. But it still held implications, it still held desires, it still signified something more— At least to him it did.

You remained unphased by it, though. Usually, when Kabru said that, there would be a laugh or blush or the widening of eyes. You gave him nothing of the sort. No flirtatious looks, no intention-laced smile, no flicker of recognition.

“See you then,” was all you said.

Rin was wrong. You couldn’t disappoint him. Opening your doors and peeking inside your mind would be so satisfying.

- You go on several dates with Kabru without realizing they’re dates.

- After one date when you make friends with the next table over and invite them to join your meal, introducing Kabru as ‘my friend’ and not ‘the man who is courting me’ or ‘my boyfriend’, he begins to wonder…

- Do you not realize that these are dates?

Kabru knew he had the tendency to stare, but he usually kept that urge locked away for the sake of masking. Always masking. Always aware of his surroundings and the people and the words and the looks.

He kept his staring urge hidden at first. Yet as time passed, as you went on more dates, he couldn’t help himself. He had to stare. He had to drink in every detail of your face, coveting it all as a desert wanderer would covet water.

And you didn’t seem to mind. You would give him this look sometimes, a look he couldn’t quite decipher. It was a mixture between affection and confusion and bashfulness. It was his favorite expression of yours and never failed to put butterflies in his stomach.

Kabru knew he was falling in love. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, but he’d never been truly in love before. At night when he forced himself into bed, he stared at the ceiling and mused on the future you had together. Neither of you had said anything to make the relationship official, but was that even needed? It was obvious that you were together— to him, at least.

Kabru held your hand as he led you through the crowded streets. Once you caught up to his side, he placed his palm on the small of your back. He wasn’t much for PDA, but it was a necessity when traversing the island together. He didn’t want to lose you in the crowd.

Once you were in a more quiet spot, he sent you a smile, “I have to ask, I’m too curious; What’s your favorite date that we’ve had together?”

You thought for a moment, “Hm… I would have to say last week. It was a Thursday. I like Thursdays anyway. I think it was the 7th? Yeah. June 7th, Thursday. That’s a good date, it’s a bit cool outside and all the flowers are blooming. But if I had to say which one was my favorite, I think it would be April 18th. I’m not sure that we spent that date together, though.”

…Okay.

Like the sunset rising over the mountains, it began to dawn on him.

Were you stupid?

No, you weren’t stupid. He had seen you in the dungeon before, how you fought and strategized and reacted. You couldn’t be stupid.

Then what? Were you playing hard to get? Were you teasing him? Was this a move on the board, your Knight piece pressing forward to continue the assault? Kabru needed to know.

He kept his hand on your back but his gaze straight ahead. “That’s nice,” he said. It wasn’t nice, actually. “What about when we hold hands? Do you enjoy that?”

You shrugged, “It helps us keep track of each other as we go through a crowd.”

“But I hold your hand even when we’re not around other people.”

The face you made betrayed your true thoughts. “Yeah, it seems like your hands are cold a lot. You really should start keeping gloves with you.”

“...Do you think I’m holding your hand because my fingers are cold?”

Another flash of confusion, another furrow of your brows. “Why else would you hold my hand?”

The sun rose completely over the mountains and the daytime, clear and bright, engulfed his world.

You had no clue.

- This stresses Kabru out immensely.

- He starts taking notes. He has a special little book just for you. A lot of the pages are filled with scribbles and question marks.

- He makes a plan on what to do. He’s going to up the ante, he’s going to make his feelings so clear that you can’t ignore them or be oblivious even if you tried.

- He starts getting more touchy. He kisses your forehead often. He kisses your knuckles. He’s around you all the time, every chance he gets. He tells you you’re beautiful. He says that he wants you to meet his mother. He talks about your future together.

- You say, “Oh, your mom? Cool. You think we’ll get along? I’m always up for making new friends.”

- “You want a future with me? Well, I’m free next Wednesday.”

“I like you,” Kabru was breathless and wide-eyed. His hair was a mess from how often he’d run his fingers through it. He was disheveled and hadn’t slept the entire night.

You glanced up from the book you were reading, “Oh? Cool, thanks.”

He sent you a look. “No, I mean I love you.”

“Yeah,” you flipped a page in the book, “love you too.”

“You do?” Hope bloomed and unfurled like a spring flower. Kabru felt his cheeks grow warm, a fire igniting within him.

“Yeah,” you said lightly, “I love all my friends, of course.”

That spring flower suddenly wilted. The fire was doused by a cold bucket of water in the form of your words. Kabru wanted to scream and bang his head against the wall.

“You don’t get it,” he hissed through clenched teeth, fingers tensing as he leaned forward, desperate. “I’m in love with you. This is really hard for me to say, but I think you need to hear it like this. I love you. I love you. I love you…” Somehow, his cheeks went even hotter. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed his embarrassment, “I-I… Sorry. I just need you like I need oxygen. I…”

You snorted, “You don’t need me to breathe, I’m a person not an organ. You’re breathing right now just fine.”

He was not breathing just fine, but that was beside the point.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Kabru said. He could hear how strained his voice sounded.

You watched as he walked away, rounding a corner and disappearing from sight. Then he screamed. It sounded like he also kicked something, a crate or box maybe.

How odd.

- When it finally gets through your head, he’s actually a bit satisfied by your embarrassment at it all. Yes, please do acknowledge your obliviousness. Please do apologize for treating his love confession so casually. When you do so, he feels as if he could melt from the relief.

- He still wants to bang his head on the wall, though.

- And he’s spent a lot of nights screaming into his pillow.

- Kabru continues to play 5d chess with you, just simply out of habit, but you’re playing Hungry Hungry Hippos the entire time. He still finds himself trying to pick apart your actions and responses, but he’s learned how to take things at face value when it comes to you. It’s a difficult adjustment, but one he’s willing to make.

- He starts to learn, take more notes, observe your behavior. For dates, he lays it out carefully. You two are going to do this specific thing. Why? Because he would like to see you happy, and hold your hand, and kiss you. Why? Because he loves you. Now you get it.

- You’re fascinating actually. Genuinely, he starts to adore how your brain works. He wants to pick it apart and hold the pieces up to a magnifying glass.

♡ Mithrun ♡

- He does not care.

- Be as oblivious as you want, that’s not going to stop Mithrun.

- The Canaries, however, are going insane.

“How’s it going with them?” Pattadol asked. Her hands were folded in front of her in that polite way, the way that told Mithrun that his second in command had something on her mind. Pattadol thought she was subtle. She was not.

And he knew precisely who she was referring to. Might as well give her an answer that’ll satisfy her curiosity, lest she keep asking questions.

“Fine,” he answered, “just fine.”

Yet, Pattadol’s brow furrowed. Not a good sign.

“Just fine?” She asked. Her voice went up a pitch. “It’s just fine? Really?”

“Really.”

She unlaced her fingers and spread out her hands as if gesturing to something, but all that surrounded them was Mithrun’s under-decorated living quarters. There was really nothing to gesture at besides the wooden cabinets and the bed. Mithrun waited, aware that she was picking through her piles of thoughts— probably thoughts mixed with screams of frustration— to find the right words.

Finally, Pattadol forced a shaken smile, “It’s clear to anyone that knows you that you’re in love with them, Captain.”

That was what she decided to say? It was a bit blunt for Pattadol’s usual style. Mithrun only shrugged, “Yeah, you’re right. It’s pretty obvious.”

“So why haven’t they noticed yet?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I want you to be happy for once!” Pattadol snapped, but she then took a deep breath, “Sorry, Captain, I didn’t mean to sound that way. This is hard for me, talking so openly about these things… But it’s so frustrating to watch.”

Mithrun could understand that. While he personally wasn’t frustrated by the circumstances, he knew that the Canaries couldn’t stand watching his interactions with you. It wasn’t a big deal in the long run, in his opinion. They’d get over it.

“Thank you,” he answered.

“Do you have any ideas on how we can do that?”

“Do what?”

Pattadol’s eye twitched ever so slightly. Her fingers tensed like claws, and Mithrun felt the corner of his lips turn up in a barely-there smirk. But genuinely, he wasn’t sure what she referred to. Did she mean the part about him being happy, or the part about you being oblivious? She should’ve been more clear.

“About…” she hesitated. Obviously she wasn’t sure what she meant either. She then nodded as if deciding, “About everything. About the obliviousness, your happiness, etcetera.”

He didn’t know what the etcetera referred to, but didn’t care to ask. “You don’t have to do anything,” Mithrun assured her as he leaned back in the chair and folded his arms. The wood creaked slightly from the movement. Everything on this boat creaked, as was the nature of boats, he guessed.

“I would like to do something,” Pattadol nodded, determined. “We all would.”

A shrug, “Alright. Then do something.”

- Pattadol, over-achiever and top student and certified Girl Who Cares Too Much, takes that as a challenge.

- Cithis only joins because she thinks it’ll be funny.

- Fleki also only joins because she thinks it’ll be funny.

- And Lycion also also joins because he thinks it’ll be funny (though he does care on some level. Not really about you, but about Mithrun. And it’s painful to watch.)

- Otta is forced to join.

- The attempts are weak at first, like dipping a toe into the water to see how cold it is. Mithrun only has so much patience for interference with his life, so they have to be smart and tread carefully.

- Pattadol gives Mithrun a hint. “There’s some pretty flowers growing beside the road over there. You should give one to them!”

- “What would they need a flower for?”

- Mithrun asks that on purpose. He knows precisely what he’s doing. Yes, people generally like receiving flowers, he knows that. But he also believes that flowers are useless gifts.

- “Then what present do you suggest?” Pattadol asks.

- Mithrun has an idea. He gets you soap. Everybody uses soap (hopefully) It’s a useful gift, and if he gives you the same kind he uses then he’ll get some weird sick flicker of pleasure from having his scent on you. (He wisely chooses to not say that part aloud.)

You held the little bar of soap in your hands as if it were an injured baby bird you found on the ground. Yet your feelings towards it were far from protective or empathetic. This soap said something. It had a mouth and it used it to scream.

You met Mithrun’s flat gaze, “Soap…”

He nodded, “Yeah. Soap. It’s a gift for you.”

For you?

Mithrun continued, “It’s the same kind I use. Smells the same.”

It felt as if you’d swallowed a handful of pebbles and they all had gotten stuck in your throat. “Do you… think I’m stinky?”

You cursed yourself for even asking that. What a useless question. Obviously, he thought you stank! He gave you soap! He was trying to tell you something, being subtle and polite for once! Usually Mithrun would just say it bluntly, but he’d been working on his desires lately. Perhaps he’d also decided to embrace societal expectations? You weren’t sure. But soap. Soap!

You didn’t notice how Mithrun tensed. You didn’t see him quickly blink several times and tilt his head. You didn’t see the slight widening of his good eye. “No, I—“

“I’ll go use this right now,” you interrupted, “I’ll go wash away my stench so you can finally stand to be near me.”

Despite the horror, you were a bit proud of yourself. You’d taken a hint, maybe you were getting less oblivious.

- In your defense, a bar of soap is a weird gift.

- Alright. Mithrun admits it, he needs help. He’s not so prideful anymore that he won’t admit that he doesn’t know what to do.

- Pattadol is really triumphant about that but does her best not to show it.

- Plan B: make it so obvious that you have no choice but to realize his feelings.

“This has to be the most physically uncomfortable I’ve felt in a very long time,” Mithrun said as he tugged at the ends of the fancy, over-decorated blouse the Canaries had put him in. “I honestly prefer Cithis’s frilly dresses.”

Which was saying something. Mithrun had a preference? That was a good sign.

“It makes you look handsome,” Pattadol said.

“The only thing it makes me is itchy,” he corrected.

The Canaries had somehow found a blouse— not a shirt or tunic, a blouse— that made Mithrun feel something other than indifference. He usually didn’t care about what he wore, as long as it was comfortable, but the clothes they’d stuffed him into were offensive to human-kind, like vegan bacon.

It had a big frill on the front and puffy sleeves. It was somehow both too flowy and too tight at the same time. The trousers weren’t much better, digging into his legs. And the shoes…

Mithrun didn’t want to talk about the shoes.

It was clear to him that Fleki and Cithis had only contributed to the outfit because they thought it would be amusing. Good for them, he supposed. Pattadol seemed to genuinely like it, Otta looked horrified, and Lycion was in some in between state where he wanted to show pity but couldn’t quite stifle his giggles.

“Remind me again what the point of this is?” Mithrun asked with a sigh.

“We got them to agree to a date!” Pattadol said, grinning, “I said outright ‘it’s a date’ so there would be no confusion. I made it clear that the date was with you. Now, if you show up looking like a million gold with a bouquet of flowers, they’ll get the hint.”

Mithrun did not want to do that.

Mithrun rarely wanted to do anything, but this just felt wrong. In his opinion, the relationship between you and him would develop naturally in a way that fit both of your personalities. He didn’t mind waiting for you to realize his intentions, he had time. As long as you didn’t fall in love with someone else, and didn’t stop him from staring at you or touching you, then he wasn’t in a rush.

But since the Canaries insisted, seeming to think that this was the right course of action, he would go along with it. Maybe it would be an utter disaster and Pattadol would realize that she knew very little about relationships— especially a relationship involving Mithrun. He was aware enough of himself to know that it wouldn’t be conventional.

With his hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and the ridiculous outfit on, Mithrun entered the restaurant Pattadol had chosen. He found you immediately. You sat in a chair with your elbow on the table and your ankles crossed, waiting.

Mithrun held a bouquet of pink roses as he approached. You lit up when you saw him, but your brows then furrowed.

“Where’s Pattadol?” You asked.

His stride faltered, “She isn’t coming.”

“Oh,” you shrugged, “well since she set this up I assumed she’d be here.”

Why would she be here? It was a date Pattadol had set up for you and Mithrun specifically.

You probably didn’t know it was a date, he realized. Pattadol thought she’d been clear by saying ‘it’s a date’ but failed to realize that that was just a common phrase among people and meant nothing to no one.

Calm, he slid into the seat across from you and watched as you raised a brow, “What’re you wearing?” You asked.

“My team picked it out for me.”

“You look like you’re part of an opera or a ballet, like you’re about to stand beneath a balcony and start spouting poetry to your lover.”

That was a good description, actually. Those were the words Mithrun had been looking for earlier when he saw himself in the mirror.

He nodded, “Yep.” Then, wordlessly, he held out the bouquet to you.

Your eyes widened, “For me?”

“I’m handing them to you, aren’t I?”

Gingerly, you took the flowers and held the stem of the wrapped bouquet with both hands as you inspected each petal.

A flicker of surprising satisfaction ran through his chest. You liked the flowers. It made sense, most people liked flowers, even if he didn’t see why.

You dipped your head down toward them presumably to smell them, but your lips then parted and you dug your teeth into the nearest rose.

Mithrun froze.

You chewed on the rose, your nose wrinkling in disgust. You gave the flower a good shot, a proper taste, but it didn’t take long until you grabbed a napkin and spit up the pink slobbery mess into it.

“Sorry,” you sent him an apologetic smile and tried to hand the bouquet back to him, “they don’t taste that good, and I don’t think I could season or cook them in a way that would help.”

Mithrun knew he was staring. He knew he was making a face, slightly tilting his head down, intensity in his eye. The kind of face someone made when they were internally screaming.

He was not internally screaming, but he was thinking— about you, how your brain worked. And how it was so damn charming for some reason and all he wanted to do was kiss you until he was all you could think about.

He wanted something. The feeling was sweet, a shot of adrenaline, one of Fleki’s drugs. Addictive. Like the slow drip of honey. He could survive off that want for ages.

Wordlessly, Mithrun threw the bouquet over his shoulder to get rid of it. Judging by the gasp that followed, it probably hit someone in the head.

Loving you was as natural to him as breathing.

- Mithrun decides to not let the Canaries interfere any longer. He was wrong earlier in thinking he needed their help. He doesn’t.

- Also, watching them go insane over your obliviousness and his lack of communication provides a good bit of entertainment.

- When he finally decides to give into that all-consuming, new, exciting desire and kiss you, your response is, “But I wasn’t casting a spell, no reason to try and stop me.”

- God, he adores you.

- He takes kisses whenever he wants them, with no care about what you think his intention is.

- After a certain kiss that involves tongue and teeth and fingers digging into your waist, you start to openly wonder… Are you in a relationship with Mithrun?

“Yes,” Mithrun didn’t even glance up at you, remaining unphased by your rather serious question, “We’re in a relationship.”

He continued to jot down notes about a monster he saw, as if he’d just casually answered a question about the weather. ‘Is it going to rain today?’ ‘Yeah looks like it.’

You gulped, “How long?”

“A year now,” he kept writing. Truthfully, he’d been expecting this. A flash of disappointment crossed his mind; there goes one of his hobbies, watching the Canaries have a crisis over his love life.

You buried your face in your hands. Mithrun stopped writing and patted your head as if comforting a dog.

- The Canaries are pleased that this is over. But actually, they’re going to have to watch you not realize it when you’re engaged to the Captain.

- At your wedding you’re in regular clothes. Someone asks why and you say “Mithrun told me we’re going to a wedding. He didn’t say it was ours.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Doom of Ghis (Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You decide to trick a Queen. It doesn’t quite go according to plan.

Warnings: Smut. Corruption kink. Twisting of religious rituals. Dubious consent? Fingering. Playing doctor.

A/N: I am tired of writing older man x younger woman. Meet older woman x younger woman. Palate cleanser in the middle of writing a new character. Also, I miss writing girls.

“THIS IS NOT a task fit for a Queen.” Rhaenyra looks at Corlys with narrowed eyes. Her annoyance at her own council has begun to build like a sore, and threatens to explode at any given moment.

Presently, it can’t. It would be in poor taste to do during dinner. Lord Corlys has asked her if they could sup in her quarters, to discuss a private matter. She had been expecting war preparations, not this.

“Yet it is a task we require of you.” Her Hand answers, unintimidated by her glare. Rhaenyra reminds herself it is a good thing, not to be feared. She wishes to be a wise Queen, one who is remembered as a champion of peace and not as the next Maegor the Cruel. She wants to be exactly like her father. Viserys the Peaceful.

Viserys the Peaceful never throttled his Hand. And his was much more irritating than hers.

“Why can’t we just… Forgone the custom?” She asks him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“The House of Pahl is already offended by the offer we made them. Marrying one of their daughters, even if it is one of the ones from the second son, to a bastard is an insult. Not having Graces present for the ritual is, too. We cannot afford to offend them any further.”

“Can’t Baela do it?” It sounds childish even to her ears. Rhaenyra isn’t quite sure why she feels so awkward about the ritual, it’s hardly as if she will see something she is unfamiliar with herself. She bets the girl will be more awkward than her, and the thought of having to soothe her seems unappealing. “Or Lady Mysaria?”

“Both of them are quite busy with their duties.” Lord Corlys takes a second to drink from his goblet. It stings, the unspoken fact that Rhaenyra is not. “The Lady Mysaria would provide greater offense, considering her… Previous occupation and lack of relationship to me. As for Baela, I do not feel prudent to recall her from her patrols.”

“My own kinship to you is fairly removed.” Rhaenyra cuts a piece of venison and takes her time chewing. When a Queen wishes to speak, men wait. And it is important to remember her Hand of that fact, especially since he is asking favors. “I am, what? Your second niece? And only through marriage.”

“They feel honored that a Queen will perform the ritual for their daughter. And we need their coin.”

“Slaver’s coin.”

“Coin that will win us the war.” Lord Corlys interjects. “That will buy men. Armor. Weapons. Food.”

Rhaenyra doesn’t answer. She simply cuts another piece of venison.

YOU SIT ON the table, legs hanging off the edge. A fire is lit, and a tea set is already prepared on another low table, along with cushions. A small, dragonglass dome, covers the cakes the Queen and you will share. The message is clear. Your family expects the ritual to go without a hitch.

You aren’t too sure. This Queen you will meet, who will take the place of your elder because your betrothed has no suitable relative to do so, isn’t Ghiscari like you. She is Valyrian. You hate Valyrians.

Cloaked in your pink veil, and wearing your simplest white shift, you await her arrival. You remember your mother’s words. Befriend her. Let her use you and touch you as she pleases. Do not try to instruct her to perform the ritual the right way.

What your mother suggests, simply put, is to see if she can be seduced while being convinced she is the one doing the seducing. Her friendship could give House of Pahl an even greater advantage that you will be getting after you become Lady of the Tides.

Not only control over a fleet that can block trade routes by marrying a Valyrian bastard. Friendship to a Queen. Lover to one. A whispered word in her ear and your wishes shall be law if you play your cards right.

There is no shame in it, your father had said, when they had instructed you as to how to behave. The Red Graces and White Graces do the same and their blood is as noble as yours. They serve the Gods of Old Ghis by providing pleasure to many men. What is asked of you is to only pleasure a single woman.

A single woman who is Valyrian. Whose ancestors burned Old Ghis, and forced yours to flee to Mereen.

It’s not that you object to the fact that it is a woman. You object to Valyrians. They are ugly little things, with queer facial features and skin and hair too pale.

But the woman who enters the room is anything but. She is beautiful, dressed in a black gown that makes her look regal. She has a sweet face, and her distasteful colorless hair is pulled back. It looks less offensive that way, you suppose.

“Your radiance.” You address, lowering yourself from the table you sit in and curtsying. The title has never felt more apt. Her face is beautiful despite her age, and her body shapely.

“Good morrow.” The Queen says. Her voice is delightful too, strong and commanding, with a feminine quality to it. Seducing her now doesn’t seem like much of a chore. “We use the title of Your Grace here.”

“Your Grace.” You rectify, and give her another curtsy. Underneath your veil, you are giving her an apologetic smile. She cannot see it.

You wonder what she thinks of you, cloaked in a soft pink veil that covers both your hair and face. Thanks to the artfully draped pleats, she cannot see you, but you can see her.

She probably thinks you look like a strawberry dipped in clotted cream. You cannot wait to marry and use the Velaryon colors. They look much more dignified than yours.

“I was explained by your Lord Father that I will become your elder after this ritual.” She says, voice full of gravitas. “So there is no need for you to curtsy so much. I hope to become a mother to you.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” You are thankful she cannot see your face, or you would burst out laughing. It’s what is supposed to happen, yet you are not counting on it. “I am sure you are a busy woman. We should begin soon.”

You sit yourself on the table again, feet dangling. The table is the perfect height for bending you over it, but you do not comment on it.

“…I… Of course.” The Queen seems taken aback by how straightforward you are, which makes you smile.

You wait for her to come to you. She hesitates, as if unsure of herself, before coming to stand between your parted legs.

Slowly, her hands pull your veil back. You school your expression into one of quiet dutifulness.

Rhaenyra gasps slightly when she sees your face. You do not allow your face to change, but internally, you are dancing a gig. The veil had been a stroke of brilliance on your father’s part. He always said the best part of worshiping a Red Grace was the reveal.

“You are a beautiful young woman.” She says, starting to map out your features with her fingertips. Her touch is soft, as if scared of hurting you. You play the part of the blushing maiden, letting out a gasp of your own when she traces your lips. Her eyes darken. “Alyn is a very lucky man.”

This Alyn is an accomplished sailor, you hear, and on the fast track to become a Captain. His recent acknowledging by Lord Corlys only propels him higher. You have heard the men admired him from starting from below, unlike other Lord’s bastards.

It’s not a bad prospect. Any man can give you children, you know. It’s not a difficult task. Not every man can give you a fleet.

“And I am very lucky to be marrying him.” You say, after a while. Rhaenyra’s hands have stayed where they are, lingering on your jaw. She doesn’t dare move further down. Her eyes are focused on your lips, as if noticing how intimate the embrace the two of you are in.

Her hands, holding your jaw. Her hips, nestled in the space made by your spread legs.

She goes back to tracing your lips with her thumb, a storm brewing in her eyes. She is confused, this Queen of yours. The intimacy is getting to her, but her morals are holding her back. Rhaenyra is not supposed to take advantage of a maiden she is supposed to welcome as her daughter.

You decide to push her a bit. You take her thumb inside your mouth, cradling it softly in your tongue. Her eyes dart to yours, but you close them, as if delighted by what you are savoring.

Rhaenyra pulls back.

“What are you doing?” She snaps at you. Your eyes open, but your lips remain tantalizingly parted still.

“You are meant to inspect me wholly.” You try your best to sound shy. “Even inside. My mother said…”

Guilt passes once again over her features. You are a poor naive girl, who doesn’t feel anything like arousal. She is the one getting a sick satisfaction over a sacred ritual.

It’s not the truth, of course. But it is what she believes.

She slips her thumb inside your mouth again. You close your eyes, scrunching them tightly. Feigning embarrassment once more. Her thumb presses down on your tongue, drawing a line. It makes drool begin to gather at the corners of your mouth.

As Rhaenyra checks your molars with a careful press of her fingers, warmth begins to accumulate in your core. You open your eyes, looking at her.

She seems absorbed by the task. The Queen barely notices you are holding her gaze, fascinated by your warm mouth. She removes her thumb, wiping it on your chin.

Her hands trail lower. Down your jaw, and to your neck. She keeps her touch light, making you squirm. Everywhere she touches, a trail of goosebumps follows.

“Shh, sweet girl. You are doing so well.” She rubs your shoulder, probably thinking you shake from nervousness and not from pure, sheer want. “So well for your Queen.”

You feel your flower growing slick with her words. You worry if that will give you away when she reaches that part of the examination. Rhaenyra might yet discover that you are not as innocent as you pretend to be. It only makes you wetter.

Would she punish you if she found out? Pinch your little pearl until you cried? Spank your rear?

Her hands slip the straps of your shift down your shoulders. You are left bare in front of her.

Your nipples are pebbled. They have been since she started touching you.

The Queen doesn’t touch you there at first. Not where you need her the most. Instead, her hands trail over your shoulders, teasing you with promises of what is to come. She traces imaginary patterns, all the way to your forearms.

You fight the urge to whine. You just sit there, eyes on your lap, not attempting to cover yourself nor to help her, the picture of dutifulness.

She runs one of her fingers over a taut nipple. You hiss. She gives it a pinch, carefully observing your face. Perhaps wondering how far you will let her go.

You say nothing. She pinches the other one, gently. Then, she cups your breasts in her hands.

“A pretty pair, these.” Rhaenyra licks her lips. You wish she would wrap them around your nipples instead. She continues to give your breast soft caresses, squeezing from time to time. An amused smile appears on her face, when she sees how you twitch when she accidentally brushes your nipples.

“Lay down, love.” She orders you, pushing your stomach. You obey her, laying flat on the table. A feast spread for a dragon.

Her hand lowers your shift even more, exposing your belly button. She touches under it, over your womb. She presses down on it, and you gasp.

The pressure feels odd. It feels good, too. It’s not something you would have thought to do to yourself when playing on your own, but her hand feels scorching hot over your skin.

“Hurts?” She asks you, softly.

“Feels strange.” You reply. “Good.”

Rhaenyra hums. Her hands pull your shift down fully, and take it from you. You close your legs tightly, embarrassed at how wet you are. Your father had ordered you to remove all your body hair before the ritual, so you are bare for her to observe. Completely.

“Spread your legs, sweet girl.” It’s said with a frown. Her hand grazes your bare mound, puzzled by it.

You spread your legs. Your folds unstick with the motion, slick shining between your legs.

“It’s customary. To facilitate the checking of the womanly parts.” You offer her, suddenly embarrassed.

“I see.” Rhaenyra says, spreading your folds. It only makes your cunt leak more. She presses on your pearl with her thumb, almost playing with it. Her face is dark, eyes almost all pupils. No longer a queen, but a dragon.

She doesn’t comment on your wetness, but swirls one of her fingers on it, before dragging it all the way to your pearl. Then, she presses a finger into your hole, checking your maidenhead.

You barely muffle your squeal.

“Tell me.” She says, tone almost conversational, starting to rub circles on your pearl. “Is this customary, too?”

Your mind blanks. Your famous ability to talk your way out of almost everything fails you. She keeps rubbing maddening circles on your pearl, and when you do not answer, she slaps your flower.

You yowl like a kitten.

“Answer your Queen.” She orders.

“No, Your Grace. It’s not.” You have your answer, you suppose. What would she do? Spank your flower. She does so again, making you tense. The pain feels strangely good, forcing blood to rush to the area, warming it. When Rhaenyra runs her fingers over your hole after, everything feels much more heightened.

“Naughty girl.” She scolds. “Get down from the table, and bend over it.”

You obey her, a bit breathless. Rhaenyra remains fully dressed, with a stern look in her face that makes you tremble. Your naked body is now on display, but under her heated gaze, you feel no shame.

You let your upper body hover slightly over the table, hips bent, your backside and flower on display. She pushes down on your shoulder, until your face and chest are squashed against the rough wood of the table.

The wood grains feel interesting against your nipples, making you squirm. You are not sure if the rough scrape is pleasant or not.

“Don’t move.” Rhaenyra says, and spreads your cheeks open. You can feel your other hole winking at her, and she makes a pleased sound. She pushes a finger inside, and quickly retreats it when you tense.

“You have such a sloppy cunt, sweet girl.” She says, voice almost impressed. “It betrays your intentions so easily.”

She begins to torture your pearl once more. She presses inside, rubbing at something that makes your cunt gush.

Rhaenyra is relentless. You try to squirm, but her other hand is firm between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned down and spread for her. Her motions get faster, touching you in the way you like best. Your peak comes fast and unannounced, making you let out a muffled yelp.

“I think I have to examine you again.” She says, coyly. “Only to make sure.”

You cannot wait.

[lady-ashfade]

Golden Son

Yandere!Bridgertons x Male!Sibling/Son!readee

╰･ﾟ✧☽ new season was amazing and I had this idea in my mind. Partly because I was jealous of Colin the whole time.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warning: yandere behavior, over protective, Platonic

-`｡ﾟ˘: ﾟ⋆ ––✷☽ ᱬ ☽✷––⋆ ﾟ: ˘ ﾟ｡.`-

Ever since you were little all they ever wanted to do was be around you. Fighting for who gets to play with you, or who got to hold you when you were born.

The middle child getting much attention? That was rare but all they could do was give it to you.

Your older brothers, and sister, would fight over who got to teach you. Having a sibling to look up to was important and they did everything in their power to get you to favor them more.

Eloise was born after you. But she wanted your attention from the minute her brain could think. You are her ideal and safe space. seeing her as more then just a woman.

God forbid you look so close to your father, everyone is more protective over you. Especially your mother, who dots on you almost every second. 

When you are older the younger ones get to keep your time because it’s fare. They have more free time and you can’t say no.

You are the talk of the town really because you are so rarely at the balls or events because the family likes to keep you safe.

So everyone is always marveled at the sight of you.

Until it is time for you to take your first debut in the season.

Another Bridgerton man who wants to find a wife? Ladies are lining up at the door.

Whether you want the attention or not, your siblings can’t allow anyone near you they don’t want…So everyone.

They ask questions to make them unsure of themselves and uncomfortable. Or pull you around the room and leaving the girls to their defeat.

If you want love then they will grant you to have it, but they must like the person and get to know them along side you.

If lady whistledown wrote anything bad about you? They will unmasks her so quickly it’s bad.

And if Eloise already knows? She’s making her pay. And if Colin is courting her and already asked her to marry him? He’d dump her in a second. You are his little brother, his favorite little star.

You are the family’s glue. You make them happy, feel at home and safe.

[copperbadge]

This is not to sniff at packaged food in any way, because cheap, uniform, nutritious, premade food is important and necessary. And despite what your local tiktok orthorexic may tell you, packaged food is still capable of providing solid nutrition.

That said, I've been making my own bread for about twenty years, and for the last ten or so it has often been easier to make bread than buy it, solely because I don't need to leave the house to do so, and I live alone so a decent loaf can last me a good ten days. Being able to make ones own bread in this modern era is a product of privilege -- the resources to buy the ingredients (especially high quality flour, not cheap), the time and space to bake, the stamina to knead or equipment to make kneading easier -- my breads improved a lot when I got a good stand mixer, and those aren't cheap. But also, to make a decent edible boule you can get by with flour, water, yeast, salt, and time. Throw in a little oil and you can make pizza crust; add in kneading and a bit of sugar and you have bagels.

It did somewhat change how I eat, because homemade bread is often a little difficult to make a sandwich with, but I was never a huge fan of sandos anyway. These days I often don't even make loaves -- I make rolls or bagels, or flatbreads.

But all of this is to say that because I'm now accustomed to eating my own bread, which is necessarily small-batch and produced without stabilizers that make commercial bread so soft and uniform, I am starting to struggle when I do buy bread because the flavor and texture often feel off. It's not that it's objectively bad food, but it's very different from what I'm used to, which is unpleasant. I've been aware of the issue for a while but previously even if the bread wasn't as good to me as my own, it was edible and convenient, so it was fine. Making your own hot dog buns is a pain in the ass.

I just bought a loaf of Italian bread, reasonably fresh, a brand I used to eat regularly, because I wasn't feeling up to baking anything. I've been making toast with it mostly. But yesterday morning -- admittedly while dealing with some nausea -- I bit into a sandwich I'd made with it (cashew butter and strawberry jam) and thought, "this feels like eating upholstery fabric."

I haven't been able to eat any more of it since. The soft, dense texture, the specific preservative flavor, the mouthfeel. I tried to eat some toast just now and had to spit it out because it felt like buttered brocade and I started to gag. I'm kind of mad about it, honestly.

The bread won't go to waste -- if I can't eat the rest of the bag I'll dry it out and crush it for breadcrumbs for fried chicken or a panade -- but it's both sad and funny that I have functionally baked myself into a corner where packaged bread is no longer even an option.

It feels like I'm becoming one of the middle-aged eccentrics I used to know when I was a kid -- older people or couples in my church, sometimes parents of my school friends, who were just kind of oddballs, hippie leftovers, what I still think of as Berkeley Weirdos (affectionate) even though Berkeley has long since gentrified. The lady who didn't have a functional oven or stove because she ate raw vegan or the family that converted their old station wagon to biofuel but kept the rear-facing back seats with no seatbelts and would give us death-defying rides to the community pool in them. I'm already growing my own basil because I eat an unlikely amount of pesto for one person. My signature potluck dishes are kiwi dip or egg-free meringues.

I don't mind, exactly. I loved the Berkeley Weirdos and the community they built for us kids. But it's definitely not a place I imagined ending up.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Who's the Dad?

Prompt Day 31: Midnight | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Modern AU, Established Steddie, Middle Age, Steddie as Parents, TikTok Trend, Platonic Stobin, Corroded Coffin Guys, Goodie Doesn't Want to Hold That Baby, New Year's Eve Fun is Different When You're Older

"Why am I holding this baby?" Goodie asks, taking Betts from Robin and awkwardly holds her up in the air under her arms. Looking right at her, as if he's willing her not to cry. 

She doesn't, but Betts is highly suspicious of this arrangement. 

Goodie is too, apparently. He might cry first.

Eddie laughs, "That's your niece. Act like you've met before." 

They're gonna have to set this to music, and hope the lip-reading lady doesn't come along and expose them.

Steve is recording on Robin's phone, falling victim to another tiktok trend, but he can't wait to see if the internet can guess who her dad is. Especially since she has two. They're kind of cheating, but that just makes it more fun.

They pass her to Jeff next, and Jeff does better, but grins as he passes her back, "I think that I might be the obviously incorrect answer." 

Eddie laughs, "Adoption, man. Lots of options. Just act cool."

Steve's not sure any of them can be cool. Not anymore. They're too old for that.

"Why are we doing this again?" Goodie asks, hovering behind Jeff, as if he's scared he might be handed her again.

"Because we're bored. And old. And if we want to stay awake for midnight to ring in the new year we need to be entertained for the next four hours," Steve explains.

New Year's Eve isn't as wild as it once was, that's for damn sure.

As soon as Gareth walks in the front door, Steve is filming as Robin immediately hands Betts over to him. Gareth takes her with one hand, gripping her little thigh as he holds her securely to his side. 

Then he looks around at them looking at him, "Why are you all looking at me?"

Everybody just laughs.

Betts isn't paying much attention to Gareth, but she's used to him. Gareth's girls are older, and he's definitely been hands-on to get his baby fix from a kid he can hand back when she starts to cry or needs a diaper change.

Eddie gets his turn, making her laugh and Steve thinks it's very cute. Then Eddie takes the camera for Steve to have his. Betts pays exactly no attention to him, preferring to look over his shoulder at everyone else in the crowded house.

Then they keep moving: Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, Jonathan, Argyle. The video's gonna be ten minutes long at this rate.

Robin posts it, the clock strikes midnight, and Steve doesn't think anything of it. Not really.

But when he wakes up in the new year, they've gone viral. Really viral. Thousands of comments are full of guesses, some right, some wrong. And lots and lots of thirst that's spread around to all of them. It's…a lot. It's a lot.

Eddie's already scrolling through them before Steve's even found his glasses.

"Why do they think Gareth is her dad before they think it's me?" Eddie asks, indignant. 

"They don't not think it's you. There are lots of offers to birth your baby if she isn't yours," Steve argues. And there are. Some of these comments are filthy.

"Everybody thinks it's you, and if not you, then Gareth," Eddie says, still complaining. 

He's not totally wrong. 

"They only think it's me because they've dug through Robin's profile. They're cheating," Steve says.

"No, they think Betts looks the most comfortable with you!" Eddie says, and Steve is afraid this is gonna turn ugly, quick. She wasn't uncomfortable with Eddie, she was being entertained. Of course she was looking at him.

Steve needs to diffuse this, but Eddie keeps going, "Elizabeth. How could you?"

He's so dramatic. Steve loves him, but it's too early for this.

"You were making her laugh. Of course she was gonna be looking at you," Steve suggests, trying to keep this from becoming an issue.

"Well, what about Gareth?!" Eddie says, shrill, poking at the screen of his phone.

"Gareth has kids. They had twins, Ed. He's incapable of being uncomfortable holding a baby, it was beaten out of him by overexposure. He could hold two babies at once. One is nothing."

Eddie laughs, but Steve can tell his feelings are a little hurt. They shouldn't have done this, but it just seemed like silly fun. Especially to see the uncomfortable ones, like Goodie and Mike, struggle to look like they've ever held a baby before.

Some of the guesses for Steve were because she paid no attention to him. He's old news. But a lot of them honestly were people digging into Robin's profile, seeing that he is heavily featured, but not watching the videos to see that they are best friends, not a couple.

Yeah, she was comfortable in his arms, and had no reason to check him out to make sure she wasn't gonna get dropped on her head. Gareth had the same vibes.

Eddie had decided to entertain her, and the audience, and that certainly worked against him. It charmed everyone, and Betts was clearly comfortable with him, but they weren't sure she was his, because of it.

"They think she looks like you," Eddie says.

Steve laughs, "Well, we all know that's not true."

Eddie finally laughs, the crisis averted, and rolls closer to Steve. Steve wraps his arms around him, pulling him in tight.

Betts starts crying through the monitor on the nightstand.

"I think you should go, as her favorite," Eddie says, burying his face into Steve's pillow. 

Yeah, yeah. He'll take one for the team. Eddie gets today to whine about this, but that's all. That's it.

Steve stands, and throws a t-shirt over his head, and heads for the bedroom door, "That's fine. I'll go continue to woo her to my side. As the favorite."

Eddie lays there for a second, and when he finally processes it, he says, "Hey! Wait a minute!"

And Steve just laughs as he closes the bedroom door behind him. This will fix itself by noon. Guaranteed.

If you want to write your own, or go see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you've seen this trend on tiktok it is generally pretty easy to tell who is the dad! I think the secret is don't look at who the baby looks like, look at how they're being held and if they are curious about the situation they've found themselves in, lol.

[fuctacles]

<<😺😺😺😺 | 😺😺😺😺😺😺>>

if i didn't respond to your comment it's bc desktop tumblr didn't let me, I still love and appreciate y'all

Maybe tomorrow he'd bring his book here, and keep the cats company while he reads. Would they like it if he read it out loud?

Oh lord, the crazy cat lady energy must be rubbing off on him already.

The cats certainly are. He looks down at his black attire now speckled with cat hair, and sighs. He should have asked Steph where the lint roller was before she left. With great effort, he stands up from the comfy couch, vowing to himself to only do a cursory search with no unnecessary peeking. 

The entrance seems like an obvious start since people like to de-hair themselves before leaving the house. The dresser next to the door is cluttered with typical things - sunglasses, hand lotion, chapstick, some loose change, and jewelry. No roller in sight. So he goes to the kitchen instead, because kitchen is where everything goes. The cats are watching him curiously from their chosen perches around the house.

"Stop it. This is all your fault."

He finally finds what he's looking for on a windowsill next to a dead fly. He starts cleaning his clothes there, next to the fridge, and its colorful display catches his attention. 

There's an Ewok magnet that looks handmade, holding up a birthday card, and a few holiday photos, capturing smiling people in swimming costumes. Some of them look older, like the photo of a kid in a wizard robe, or a pair of bloodied-up teenagers in sailor costumes, which must be a very obscure reference because Eddie hasn't seen it at any costume party before. 

The caption under the photo reads BFF but someone added a circle of smaller F's all around the photo, turning them into a frame. Which, if Eddie's connecting the dots correctly, would imply that it's Robin and Steph. The quality isn't the best, but at first glance, he's assumed it must be a family member, maybe a brother, but he remembers her saying she's an only child. 

He tracks the other photos, but most of them are new, of the Steph he already knows. There might be more around the apartment, though. 

But he's already rolled his shirt and he'll be back tomorrow morning anyway, so he quickly works on his pants' legs, gives the cats a wave, and leaves. 

While walking back, he's apparently so lost in his thoughts, he gets startled by his own uncle.

"The cats still alive?"

"Do you want?! Me?! To die?!" Eddie screeches, eyes wide and a hand on his heart, the other holding him upright against the wall. "Why the fuck are you sitting there in the dark?!"

Wayne looks pointedly at the lamp next to him, then to his nephew. Aside from his reading nook in the corner though, the living room has no other light sources right now, but Eddie just throws his hands in defeat, deciding not to argue. Especially not when his uncle finally folded and was reading Blade Runner. 

"Must have been thinking some guilty thoughts, huh?" 

"Excuse me?" Eddie takes a step back from his course towards the kitchen. His uncle was flipping a page in his book, clearly not reading but not looking up from it either. 

"To get scared like that. Did you do something bad, son?" He finally looks up, and Eddie doesn't like it. He looks exactly like his friends just before teasing him about something. "Saw something you shouldn't have?"

Eddie folds his arms and sticks his nose up, hoping the evening darkness hides his warming cheeks. 

"I don't know what kind of panty raiding you do up there, but I'm not a pervert."

"Panty riding, huh?" Wayne raises his eyebrows in interest. "That what you boys do in college these days?"

"Do you want a sandwich? Some tea maybe?" Eddie has already turned his back to him and is switching the light on in the kitchen. "And the cats are fine, thanks for asking!"

"Yes and yes. Thank you!" 

Eddie prepares them sandwiches and teas and grabs his own book so they can read in silence waiting for the evening news. It's nice to have this, a break from busy and loud college life, just sharing silence and love for books with his uncle. 

That is, of course, until Wayne looks at his watch and puts the book down to exchange it for a remote. Eddie likes to keep his nose in the book until the news become too distracting or he catches something interesting being reported on. His uncle has other plans for him this time. 

"You know it's alright to like her, right?"

Eddie lowers his book, slightly incredulous that Wayne is still talking about it. He looks at him with wide eyes.

"You really want me to fuck your neighbor, huh?"

Finally, his uncle gets a taste of his own medicine, almost choking on the tea that he unfortunately decided to sip on at that moment. Eddie: one, Wayne: zero.

But later, the score evened out again, as all Eddie could think of while trying to sleep were the pictures on the fridge, and plowing his uncle's neighbor into her mattress until she screamed. 

The next morning, with not enough sleep under his belt, Eddie skips two sets at a time, because he totally absolutely royally forgot about the fucking plant. 

He fumbles with the keys, can hear the inquisitive meows on the other side of the door, and once he's in he takes a beeline to the kitchen, ignoring the little creatures following him like they have been starving on the streets and he was a fresh batch of tuna factory waste.

The plant looks normal, the same as it did 24 hours ago, and he waters it as per instructions while trying not to even brush its leaves because he truly believes his touch might kill it. His track record with plants indicates so. Only then does he turn to the meowing bunch at his feet. 

"Hello, little demons. Time to feast."

The cats are fed, their mouths making unpleasant wet noises against the equally wet food, and Eddie has a moment to take a curious walk around the place, in search of more photos.

He finds a wedding photo, with Steph in a pink dress and stunning make up dancing with a man with curly hair. There's one from a barbecue, where Steph is being hugged by a tall man with a mustache. She's wearing jean shorts and a sweater in this one, and somehow, looks a bit off. It looks older than the wedding one. 

But a true treasure chest is the huge frame he finds above a small bookcase.

It's a collage titled 'The fucking journey' that seems to be a collection of Polaroids from a multitude of workplaces, with the same two people present. Year after year, one job after another, until they got where they are today. 

It starts with a 1983 and the sailor costumes he's already seen. They are less bruised and more tired in this one. Knowing where to start, Eddie's eyes track from one photo to another, observing Stephanie's features, her wardrobe, and her hair change until she becomes the woman she is today. 

There was no boy in that photo on the fridge. It's always been her. Growing into herself. 

Is this what his uncle was talking about? Well, not talking, but being annoyingly vague about it, like he wasn't sure what he was talking about himself. 

Fear not, Uncle Wayne. Eddie's going to pick up every pamphlet and every zine he can put his hands on, to educate them both about who their neighbor is, how to navigate the topic and respect her the way she deserves.

ko-fi

[httpsryu]

ideal type

pairing: huh yunjin x fem! reader

summary: getting asked a question during an interview leads heartbroken fans looking for the specific lady that's already in huh yunjin's big heart

category: rock band au, college gfs

genre: fluff, angst for the heartbroken fans

warnings: a LOT of jealousy from the fans and small suggestive talk

a/n: i loved writing this! thank you to the person who requested it :)

the music echoes throughout the clubroom where hundreds, maybe thousands are jumping up and down while they sing along to the song being played. the drummer starts to play by beat slowly, indicating that the bass solo is coming up.

lights in the room are ferociously blinking red, along with sirens going off into the background as huh yunjin does what she's best at; going full-jam on the bass. she gets on her knees, swaying her hips to the beat in the background as her hands attractively strum the strings.

fans take pictures and videos while screaming their heads off at how insanely attractive the specific red haired is.

however, from afar, yunjin knows the only girl she's playing for is the fair pretty lady in the back bartending drinks to customers.

you take a quick peek up at the performance in front of you while cleaning a shot glass, turning red at the way yunjin managed to send a wink towards you.

"gross, not in front of my salad." heeseung gags as he throws the towel back on his shoulder to go grab the newly sat customer.

throwing your head back in laughter as you also pay attention to the girl who finished yet another shot of straight rum for the eighth time. "another rum shot with splash of water?"

"yes, thank you."

the music starts to die down, indicating the song is going to halt at the end.

you let out a smile at the way fans are supporting the rock band, everyone is singing along, screaming and most importantly feeling the music.

"thank you all for taking the time of your night to watch us play." chaewon, the leader speaks in the mic, as she sticks her tongue out in a form of affection for the fans. "everyone make sure to get home safely, kay?"

more screams start again at the sight of the red haired bass player. she lets out a chuckle at her fangirls before speaking into the mic. "and for those who managed to score tickets to the after-show interview, can't wait to see you then."

everyone in the band stands up, waving and bowing before shortly disappearing backstage.

"they manage to get the girls off their feet, huh?" heeseung comes near you, washing more glasses. "you gonna clock off soon since your girlfriend is done playing?"

with a proud grin, you nod at your brother as you wipe your hands down on the towel draping from his shoulders. "i promise i'll open tomorrow."

"okay okay, priorities are putting your girlfriend before the family's bar and club."

you shrug, pouting playfully which earns a ruffle from your older brother.

"see you tomorrow, kiddo."

taking off your apron and hanging it in the back, you grab your items to scurry off into the backstage of the club.

looking for the room that the band was assigned to, your phone vibrates, grabbing your attention to it. digging for your phone in your bag, you hum in content once feeling the cellular block of a device.

an arm around your waist startles you, leaving you to jump.

"stop! don't do that! especially in this dark scary part of the club." you turn around, playfully smacking the taller.

yunjin laughs, nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck and inhaling the scent of you. oh, how she missed her girlfriend.

"i missed you." she murmurs in your neck, tickling you and leaving shivers down your spine. "i felt like i haven't seen you in forever!"

you can't help but to hug back your very tall girlfriend, inhaling the earthy-cherry smell of hers. "we saw each other in class."

"still felt like forever."

"EW GET A ROOM LOVEBIRDS!" chaewon's voice rings through the backstage, closing their room's door behind her.

both you and yunjin let out a laugh in each other's embrace.

"did i play amazing, baby?"

letting out a nod with a smile, your girlfriend excitedly squeals before attacking you in another hug once again.

"my eyes were always staring at you." yunjin whispers, encircling her arm around your waist to pull you in for a kiss.

a kiss where both parties are longing for each other. moving your lips along her signature cherry red lipgloss that you gifted to her while you two were fresh lovers. her tongue glossing over yours in a fight for dominance and ultimately you give in. letting out a quiet sound of pleasure while you pull her in a bit closer by her neck.

"you're so damn addicting baby." yunjin says in between the kissing.

feeling the air in you run out, you ultimately pull away with your forehead leaning on hers.

"after-show interview is going to be on in 15." she whispers gently, holding your face in her hand to give you one last peck. "i'll see you tomorrow after my engineering lab?"

"does anyone in the crowd want to ask sserafilm a question?" the interviewer asks, scanning out for hands in the audience.

everyone in the crowd raises their hands in hopes of being called on for their fun yet juicy questions.

"hmm..how about the girl in the middle with the star studded bracelet." the interviewer calls out, a smile on her face as she waits for the question.

the female in the audience clears her throat, making sure her voice is loud and clear. "this question is for yunjin."

"okay! go right ahead!" the interviewer nods, letting the girl continue while yunjin anticipates on the question from the fan.

"yunjin, being the well-known womanizer of the group, what do you say your ideal type is?"

"ooo~ that's a nice question." the interviewer laughs.

the red haired giggles, tilting her head to the left slightly in a processing-type-of-way. "i would say my ideal type is someone who has a sort of angelic vibe to them. she's determined for what she wants to do while also supporting me. oh! and she has these cute dimples that matches along with her moles."

before finishing her answer, yunjin looks down at her hand with a small very smitten smile. "lastly, she has a beautiful heart, inside and out."

every girl in the audience blinks, not ONCE, not TWICE, but THREE times in being dumbstruck at how specific their red haired bass player was at describing their ideal type.

"sounds like you have a specific person in mind?" the older woman looks at the bass player, hoping to get an answer from her.

yunjin can only let out another chuckle, holding the mic to her mouth. "just describing my type of lady, that's all."

the way the club was silent, everyone could hear the sounds of so many fangirls' hearts just broke at the bass player's words.

chaewon rolls her eyes, wanting to gag at yunjin's greasiness. how do you actually deal with this every day? chaewon feels sorry for you, honestly.

"sounds a little too specific, huh everyone?" the interviewer turns to the fans, earning nods and 'yeahs'.

the red-haired can only shrug in response, wanting to tease her fans.

"she's definitely dating someone." a fan mumbles to herself, suddenly wanting to play sherlock holmes as she whips out her cell phone to tweet about 'finding huh yunjin's secret gf'.

the interviewer continues to pick on a few fans to ask the rest of the others questions throughout the night. clueless on what is going to happen in a span of the young night, which involves huh yunjin and her ideal type.

stretching your arms out, you take your headphones off to take a quick 15 minutes break from the paper you're working on. reaching for your phone, you immediately smile at the notification on your lock screen.

"ew. i did not want to walk into the living room to see my roommate smiling over a text from my greasy bandmate." chaewon gags, covering her mouth dramatically as she picks up her car keys off of the coffee table.

rolling your eyes, you look up from your phone, noticing her keys in her hands. "going somewhere tonight?"

"i scored a date with some hot girl." the blonde sticks her tongue out, indicating that she knows she's awesome and to compliment her.

"you're so awesome, kim chaewon." sarcastically complimenting her with a blank expression.

chaewon scoffs, placing her hand on her chest. "shut up."

"make sure you're using protection."

"will do~" chaewon leaves the dorm apartment, shutting the door behind her to make sure nothing happens to her sweet roommate.

you let out a laugh at the antics between chaewon and you. leaning back down on the soft comfy couch, a satisfied stretching noise comes out of your mouth at the sudden cushion. oh, how nice it is to be chaewon and not have piles of homework and projects piling.

perks of being an architect major, you suppose.

waking yourself up with a self-inflicted smack to your cheek, you abruptly sit up to grab your headphones. however, a knock on the door startles you.

"chaewon must've forgotten something." you mumble to yourself, seeing your headphones on the place besides you before getting up to open the door for your roommate.

unlocking the door, you turn the door open and what a pleasant surprise.

"HELLOOO MY DARLING!" yunjin excitedly sings with a cheery smile on her lips.

before you're able to react and respond, the taller is attacking you with a hug as she starts peppering cute kisses all around your face.

"what are you doing here? i thought you had a lab?"

the red-haired gives you your space as she walks into the dorm. "it ended up getting postponed to next week so i decided to pay my little celebrity a visit."

what is this crazy lady talking about??

"huh? what do you mean?" shutting the door close before you trail slowly behind your girlfriend.

yunjin lets out a proud smile, showing you her phone's screen.

displayed on the screen was a 'X' tweet in search of huh yunjin's beloved lady. under that tweet were filled with replies, retweets and quotes agreeing on searching for the supposed angelic ideal type.

"what the hell?" you squint to get a better look at the other's phone.

yunjin nods, shutting her phone off and throwing it on the couch. "wanna go out on a date today?"

"i have to work on my paper."

"BOOO, please let's go out." yunjin begs, her eyes looking up at you with the look that you could never say no to. "and you look so pretty today, baby."

shaking your head as you shut your eyes close. "no. no. no. i am not falling for it this time."

a strong force grabs you from where you're standing, pushing you into a specific female's lap.

"fall for what?" yunjin whispers gently, her tone sending chills down your spine as she reaches over to grab the side of your face to kiss your jawline.

"don't act cute with me." you pout, not wanting to fall for her and her little plans. "i have to really write this paper, i'm sorry jen."

the red-haired nods, giving you one last peck on the cheek. "i understand. i'll be a good girlfriend and sit quietly next to you while waiting patiently."

SCREW YUNJIN AND HER CUTE ACT RIGHT NOW!

"fine."

"yay!" :>

long story short, the date ended up blowing the internet like wildfire. with fans of huh yunjin congratulating her while a few were nitpicking and were jealous. many others were jealous of yunjin for having a pretty lady breathing in her direction.

"we are never going out again." yunjin pouts upon entering your apartment.

you don't know what else to say before throwing your head back in laughter at the way your girlfriend is acting.

"why not? you don't want to show me off?"

the red-haired girl can only throw her head back in agony at the thought of everyone wanting to steal you from her. "you're literally the epitome of where one says their ideal type is pure."

"and i think that's half of the men and women who eyed you down in front of me." yunjin can already feel her hair coming off, if there was another reason to dye her hair blonde again, she would in hopes of it coming all off. "i was next to you, holding your hand and they STILL eyed you like you were SINGLE."

taking off your docs, you can only shake your head at how the older is acting. "well, for one, at the end of the day..i'm only yours. second, even if they look, you just need to know that you're the only one i ever only look at."

"i knowww but UGHH-"

grabbing the taller's face into your hand, you tip-toe up to reach her lips to which you peck multiple times.

yunjin still is pouting but nonetheless, she lets out a very smitten smile. cooing at how pretty you are, while she too kisses your moles on your face.

"i guess i am pretty lucky to have this beautiful lady in my arms, huh?"

nodding at her words, you kiss the older's neck. "wanna help me with my paper?"

"if you let me hit it raw."

"what?"

"huh?"

june 15, 2024; publishing date

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #44

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 20.9k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

"Hey, Mrs. Linn, thank you so much," you say while sending an appreciative smile towards the older lady, one of Jungkook's neighbors who probably used to see you more often than ever, as she holds the door for you when she sees your hands are full.

"Oh, don't thank me dear," she waves her hand before both of you make your way towards the elevator. "We all get our hands full sometimes."

Whenever you see her, you see interest and curiosity in her eyes, probably wondering why you are visiting Jungkook so often. It's not just her though. People talk and they get nosy, especially the older aged neighbors that have nothing adventurous going on throughout their day. Mrs. Linn is curious, but always sweet and never asks you about anything that could be considered as nosy or uncomfortable.

She knows you're visiting Jungkook, something you told her when she asked you if you're a new neighbor. Without too many details, you explained that your best friend lives here and you're just visiting him often. Ever since January, you've been coming here almost every day, depending on how you, Jimin and Taehyung take turns. It's March right now, so most of Jungkook's neighbors already recognize your faces, quickly classifying you as Jungkook's friends.

Mrs. Linn gets off the elevator first, living a few floors below Jungkook's floor, but she doesn't forget to send a nice greeting towards you once again as you return it, closing the elevator's door by pressing a button once she disappears behind the corner.

The walk towards Jungkook is always the same. The familiar hallway feels like a second home to you by now. A hope that things are better with him and a justified part of fear always walks you through your way towards his apartment. Pulling out the card and pressing the password of his home isn't as easy with your hands full of bags, but somehow you manage when the lock clicks and a little melody lets you know you've successfully opened the front door.

Setting down the bags on the floor, you take off your shoes and hang your leather jacket beside Jungkook's, taking the bags with you as you make it through his apartment. Surprisingly, Jungkook isn't slouched on his big couch while watching whatever he hasn't watched on Netflix yet. He is still in the living room though, barely giving you a glance as you pause and stare at him while he's lifting up the dumbbells.

Shirtless, while wearing his sport shorts he glances at you with an unbothered gaze, almost ignoring you as he keeps working out despite your presence there. Not that you expected anything more. He probably thought you're not coming here tonight.

You had to work overtime a little bit and then the wait for a take-out took half an hour. You're not an idiot. He's probably annoyed by the constant visits by either of you, Jimin or Taehyung. So far, he hasn't said anything and just went along with it. But none of you are stupid, you know he probably finds all of this ridiculous.

Ignoring him, you sigh and place the take-out on his coffee table, eyes not ignoring the two cans of beer that are probably empty.

"I brought us some chinese and sushi," you tell him, knowing he hears you even through the faint sounds of some TV show coming out of his television. "Come eat." Is what you tell him as you make your way towards the bathroom to wash your hands.

Surprisingly and luckily, Jungkook's dumbbells are laying on the floor behind his couch by the time you make it back. Your friend already sits on the couch and opens a few boxes of take-out while the delicious smell fills his living room. Plopping onto the space next to him, you glance at him to check up on him without saying a word.

His long black hair is falling onto his eyes a little, some of it sticking to his face because he's sweaty from his work-out. Still, you get to smell a faint scent of his cologne. Half-naked sitting next to you, tattoos on full display and a couple of more he got in addition to his pieces the last and this month, you're trying to focus on why you came here in the first place.

"Thanks for the food," he tells you as he opens the box and you notice he has brought cutlery for the both of you when you were in the bathroom.

"Of course," you smile, reaching for your food as your stomach grumbles, notifying you of the hanger you've been feeling ever since the diner time.

Jungkook turns up the volume a little, both of you focusing on the food and TV. As much as your curiosity and concern tells you to fully check on Jungkook, you keep your eyes off him knowing he's annoyed by the constant worried looks all of you give him. He's the first one to finish his food, cleaning after himself before he disappears in his bathroom. A minute later, you hear water running which makes you sigh as you grow already full, putting back down the leftovers.

It's been like these for two months now. Ever since the truth came out. The first weeks were the worst. Jungkook wouldn't talk to anyone, he wouldn't even eat properly which made you terribly concerned when you clearly saw he lost some weight.

Kiko has ruined him.

What hurts you is to see him going through this and there's nothing you can do to ease the pain and loss he's feeling. He wouldn't even talk to you which hurts the most. But this isn't about you.

At least he's slowly getting better, even though you're not sure if you could call it that. He's obviously going through a lot of pain and a heartbreak, and maybe he doesn't confide in any of you, but at least he tries to stay busy. He's working more than usual and if he isn't, he's probably stuck in a gym. There are always two options where he is at, if he's not home.

Pulling out your phone, you're not too surprised to see Jimin checking on you and Jungkook.

Jiminie: how is he? 

"As usual, nothing new tbh" You type back, sighing as you rub your forehead looking around.

Well, at least he keeps his apartment clean and doesn't forget to take care of himself as well. There were days when he would barely walk out of his room, pleading with you, Jimin and Taehyung to leave as he insisted on being alone. You didn't like that and if it weren't for Jimin's persuition, you'd never leave him alone.

Although, they didn't find out about Kiko and what she's been hiding this whole time right away. It took them a week to realize there's something going on, especially when Jungkook wouldn't pick up his phone and your conscience couldn't make out too many excuses why you can't hang out with them.

"Jimin and Tae are asking about you... I think you should at least text them, they're worried." You told Jungkook a day after he found out about Kiko. You refused to leave him alone in that state, especially when his kitchen looked like a tornado happened there.

Jungkook could barely stand on his feet, but still insisted on cleaning after himself so you wouldn't cut yourself on the shattered glass. You didn't listen to him though, and helped him, using his then current state so he wouldn't scold you.

He didn't tell you anything when you told him about your worried friends, that's until they got fed up with your lame excuses and Jungkook's lame of a text saying 'he's busy' and came to Jungkook's. When they saw you and the guilty yet sad look you gave them, their thoughts were proved right that there's something happening.

Jiminie: is he as annoyed as he was yesterday? 

Well, you didn't see him yesterday but you heard from Jimin that Jungkook wasn't in the mood of having one of you there again. You get that. But you also know Jungkook and he definitely doesn't want to be alone all the time. So whenever one of you can, you always make sure to hang out with Jungkook and silently let him know that he's not alone. He's been trying to push all of you away, but you're stubborn. He would do the same thing if the roles were reversed.

"he hasn't said anything but yeah, I think he is lol"

Even the 'lol' sounds sarcastic and painful, it makes you scoff at yourself.

Jiminie: he's softest around you out of us three

Jiminie: good luck with golden boy you'll need it

"wow thanks, what a support"

He sends you a laughing emoji back, causing you to snort at him before you toss your phone next to you, just as the bathroom door opens and Jungkook walks out of there wearing cotton shorts with a shirt covering his upper body. Hair wet from the shower, you can already smell the scent of his scented shower gel as he walks towards the couch and past you.

Noticing the dark circles underneath his eyes, your heart breaks at the sight but you force yourself to look away as you make yourself comfortable, staring at the TV even though you could care less about the show it's playing there.

"You know, you don't have to come here almost every day. I'm not a kid." Jungkook speaks up for the first time, and you almost cry out of happiness when you finally hear his voice. He doesn't sound broken, but he's not fine for sure.

You glance at him, chuckling at him as your eyes meet. Trying to keep yourself composed, ignoring how his dark circles basically scream for attention, you look away. "Tell that to Jimin and Taehyung too."

Your voice is light and humorous, acting as if your almost every day visit is just a casual thing. Both of you know why you're doing this and Jungkook sees right through you, although he doesn't call you out on it. It's pointless anyway.

"I already did," he murmurs, staring down at his hands that rest on his lap. "It's... I--you don't have to come here Y/N." he says, features twisted painfully when he says it as if the last thing he wants is to hurt you with his words. You know he doesn't mean it that way.

"I want to," you tell him immediately, seeing him looking away as he sighs. "Kook," you call out to him, seeing him looking at you again as you straighten yourself and scoot closer to him. "If you don't want me here, then tell me. I'll leave right away and I won't come back unless you call me."

You don't like this idea and you've tried to be there for him for sometime over two months now. You're not sure if your presence is helping in any way, but you also don't want to make him feel worse because you're too stubborn to let him deal with this on his own.

Throughout this heartbreak and loss that he's experiencing, Jungkook has never openly said he doesn't want you here. Sure, his behavior probably indicated he's somehow annoyed at your, Jimin's and Taehyung's not so oblivious attempts of trying to look after him through this stage of his current state. But he never explicitly said he doesn't want you here and that's why you keep coming and haven't left already. This is Jungkook you're talking about. You wouldn't leave him just like that.

But if it's something he truly wants and he'll feel better, then so be it.

"I--" Jungkook stops, shutting his eyes as he rubs them while resting his elbows on his knees. "I didn't mean to sound like an asshole. I--what I meant is, that you don't have to babysit me. Nor Jimin and Taehyung have too."

Sighing, you scoot closer to him before your hands make contact with his back, feeling how tense he is. One hand rubbing his back while the other caringly squeezes his shoulder, you shake your head. "We don't babysit you, I don't think you'd do something stupid. We're just worried, Kook. You've been through a lot. I know we can't make the pain go away, but we're here for you."

He stays silent for a moment and you see him nod before he groans. "But this is ridiculous. You guys don't have to come and check on me as if I'm not capable of living my life. You don't have to bring me food as if I'm not capable of doing that on my own. I--I'm sure you guys have other things to do, more important things to do in your evenings and days than checking on me as if I'm some kid."

"You're just acting like one sometimes," you tell him lightly, joking as you nudge your shoulder against his which makes him roll his eyes. Chuckling, you lean your head against his biceps. "You're not alone in this, Kook. If we didn't want to be here for you, we wouldn't come here at all."

You feel his shift, causing you to pull away slightly to get a glimpse at him. He's looking at you, face saying thousands of words and it pains you to see the sadness and pain that's still there. However, there is a glimpse of fondness in his eyes as he searches your face.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful," he says softly, the corner of his lips lifting up slightly when you lean your head back against his biceps while staring up at him with big and curious eyes. "I'm--I'm gonna be fine. It just takes some time."

He doesn't sound convinced though.

"Of course you will," you tell him, cheek pressed against his arm. "Heartbreak isn't fatal." you remind him softly, knowing that one day he'll be able to look back onto this stage in his life and admire himself for being so strong.

"Then why do I feel like it is?" he asks quietly, your face twisting in a worry as you pull away, still holding him close to you.

"Have you considered talking to someone?" you ask, watching his brows scrunch into a frown as you lick your lips and open your mouth to explain yourself. "Like a therapist?"

As soon as those words leave your mouth, Jungkook rolls his eyes and tries to pull away from you but you hold him close and quickly continue.

"You're not just experiencing heartbreak, Kook. I'm really worried about you, there's nothing wrong with talking about this with someone professional." you tell him, voice more loud and clear.

"I got you." he says, causing you to nod.

"You got me," you confirm, "But you haven't been talking to me much, which is fine. And that's why I think, maybe it'd be a good--"

"No, I don't need a therapist." He quickly declines your idea which makes you sigh in disappointment but you're not trying to pressure him into something he doesn't want to. You just think it's a good idea if he spoke about his feelings openly, maybe get advice from a professional that can guide him to the right path.

You're no professional. Maybe whatever advice you'd come up with wouldn't help him. Maybe you'd advise him of something wrong. You don't want that.

"Okay, it's your decision. I'm not here trying to make you do something you don't want to." you remind him softly, squeezing his shoulder for the last time before you pull away but your eyes don't leave him.

You see the side of his face, him looking at his feet as he bites into the inside of his cheek. It's like he's trying to hold back whatever that wants to spill out and he embraces himself to open his mouth. You watch him with concern, ready to tell him that he doesn't have to say anything but before you can, he already speaks.

"Hoseok texted me today," he starts, closing his eyes briefly while you keep your mouth shut, letting him continue whenever he wants. "He's... coming here tomorrow to pick up her stuff."

He says, voice completely heartbroken as he mentions Kiko without actually saying her name and you know it pains him even more than you who's just looking at him.

"Have you talked to her?"

That makes him scoff and he shakes his head. "No, not since that day... I told her I never want to see her again, so she probably told Hoseok to come and pick her stuff." Yeah, that makes sense.

"Would you like to see her?" you ask carefully, watching his reaction as he stays frozen for a moment before he shakes his head.

"No, it's... I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to face her." he murmurs, rubbing his face again. You realize he's doing that to distract himself.

"Then it's a good thing Hoseok will come instead of her." you murmur, nibbling on your bottom lip.

Jungkook stays silent, sitting without barely moving before a scoff resounds from him. "I don't even know if I want to face him."

"Then tell him not to come. You don't owe him any explanation. If you're not ready, then just don't do it." you advise him, but he only shakes his head.

"No, I can't stand looking at her things scattered all over this apartment. It's better if he comes to get it..."

"Okay," you nod, reaching for his hair as you brush it off his face. "You want me to stay here tonight?"

He turns to you to look at you, "No, no... I'm sure you've other things to do."

You playfully roll your eyes at him, "I actually don't," you point out, "Tomorrow is Saturday, so I'd probably spend it alone anyway. I could be here when Hoseok comes? If that helps."

He frowns, probably ready to protest but you arch your brow at him, letting him know that it's totally fine and you'd like to stay anyway to make sure he's okay. So he sighs, nodding at you. "Alright, I... that would be fine."

Sending him an encouraging smile, you reach for the controller that's been sitting on the coffee table. "You up for a game?"

He definitely doesn't look like he's in the mood for that, but you wiggle your brows at him. "I'll kick your ass this time."

Jungkook knows what you're trying to do, but eventually after looking at you he scoffs amusingly before he snatches the controller from your hands. "We'll see about that." he mutters, the competitive side of him kicking in as you can't help but grin at him while he's starting to set up the game.

After two months of barely getting any response from Jungkook, you finally see a glimpse of the old him and you just can't fight the grin off your face. Not even when he truly kicks your ass in every game and round you play. He's not rubbing it into your face like he usually would, or joking about it but when he cocks his brow at you, a look that says 'I told you', you couldn't be happier with the progress he has managed to make.

Sometime during the night, when all the lights are turned off and the only glimpse of natural light is the moon peeking from the blinds, you turn around on Jungkook's bed. The movement is careless and you momentarily forget that you're actually sharing a bed with him. Yes, after proposing that you sleep on his big couch, Jungkook completely refused your idea and told you to go to sleep in his room. He said he'll take the couch which didn't sit with you well, after five minutes of bickering you settled on sharing the bed.

It's not the first time you both are sharing a bed. It's not a big deal. Plus, you're both single. It has never been a big deal for you to share a bed.

When your arm slaps against the mattress on Jungkook's side, you already wait for him to wake up and scold you for taking up most of the space like what happened too many times. But you're met with an empty space beside you which makes you crack your eyes open, lifting your head while your rustled hair falls onto your face. Groaning, you push them away just to be met with Jungkook nowhere to be seen.

Looking around, it takes you a while to notice he's not in the room. You could easily go back to sleep, but something doesn't seem right about Jungkook not being here. Sure, he could've gone to the bathroom or something. But all you can think about is his dark circles, which is enough proof that he probably has trouble sleeping. Pulling the duvet off your body, you don't bother to put on the slippers as you open the door from his room. Your head slightly pounds from the lack of sleep but you ignore it, eyes scrunched when you spot a light coming from the kitchen.

It's a dim lightning, nothing too bright but enough for you to notice Jungkook standing with his back turned to you, facing the kitchen light that's under the cabinet that isn't as invasive as the normal lightning would be.

You approach him quietly, your feet paddling against the floor. "Can't sleep?"

He doesn't flinch or jump from your sudden presence, but he turns his head to you abruptly as if he was caught doing something. It's only then when you notice the bottle of whiskey in front of him and a glass settled right next to it. He looks at you guilty, looking away as if he didn't want you to see it.

Sighing, you lean against the counter with your lower back as you watch him. "Does it help?"

"Couldn't fall asleep," he murmurs, "It usually helps me to fall asleep faster,"

You bite back the scolding you would most likely give him in other scenarios. But he wouldn't be drinking in other scenarios to help him to fall asleep, would he?

"Go back to bed, I'll be there soon." he tells you, grabbing the glass before he pours the entire dark liquid that's been there into his mouth.

Watching his neck bop at the movement, he swallows it as he bites onto his lower lip. His tattooed hand goes to his hair, running through them before he grips the edge of the kitchen counter. He's not going to get rid of you that easily, plus you can't go back to sleep knowing he's here drinking and trying to fight with insomnia this way.

Jungkook gives you a look when you turn around, hoisting yourself up to the kitchen counter to sit on it as you give him a smile. "Pour me one too."

Frowning, he stares at you. "Don't be ridiculous. You don't drink this late."

"Neither you used to," you tell him softly, "Fine, then I'll take the bottle."

Before your hand can reach the bottle, Jungkook is already snatching it as he rolls his eyes at you and pours a small amount into the glass, sliding it towards you. "You take the glass, I'll take the bottle." he says defeatedly which makes you grin in success.

"Fine by me," you hum, tasting the alcohol as you cringe right away but swallow it anyway, ignoring Jungkook's raised and knowing look. "How long have you been up?" you ask, trying to make a conversation.

After the games you both played, you went to take a shower and take off the make-up to get ready for the bed. Jungkook has lent you one of his shirts and luckily found one of your pajama shorts you always kept here during your summer sleepovers. Once you were done, Jungkook was already in bed staring at the ceiling and once you had joined him, he turned off the lights and went to sleep. At least that's what you thought because by the time ten minutes had passed away, you had already fallen asleep.

Looking at the digital clock on his stove, you realize it's three in the morning. You've slept for four hours.

"I never fell asleep." he admits silently, ignoring your worried gaze as he drinks from the bottle.

"How long is this lasting?" you ask quietly, not wanting to sound as if you're scolding him. You're worried.

"Ever since that day," he answers, causing you to suck in breath as your heart cracks at the new information. This is even more serious than you've thought. You knew there's obviously something more going on with him, something you, Jimin or Taehyung know about. "But I don't drink every day, especially during the week when I've to work and drive the next day."

At least he's responsible, you think as you look away from him and sigh. "It breaks my heart to see you like this, Kook." you admit quietly, voice almost cracking as he glances at you, eyes filled with sadness and guilt.

"That's why I didn't want you to come here and see me like this." he says back but you only shake your head.

"Don't say that," you lick your lips, "I'd rather be here than wondering how you are doing."

"Isn't it obvious?" he scoffs, glancing at you as you sigh in defeat but silently agree with him. He doesn't sound angry at you, he's angry at the situation, at the pain he's feeling. It's like you can understand what he's going through, even though realistically you've no idea how much pain he's enduring.

Attention taken away by a movement, you watch Jungkook walking towards one of the cupboards as he pulls out something that rustles in his hold before he hands you the item. It's a pack of crackers, it makes you smile as you look up at him with a question in your eyes.

"So you won't feel sick from the whiskey," he explains, watching you grin at him as you open it, plopping a cracker into your mouth before you point towards your glass, silently telling him to pour you one more.

He looks skeptical but he does it either way which you thank him for. Offering him the pack of crackers, he shakes his head with a faint smile but it's very short-lived when it drops and he's back to his sadself.

Silently, you munch on the snack. This is the worst. You've no idea what to say. Distracting him is too obvious and something tells you he's not in the mood for that. Trying to make a conversation at three in the morning is... what would you even talk about? Even from your point of view, all you can focus on is the elephant in the room but it's Jungkook's call. You're not going to make him talk when he clearly doesn't want to.

So you sit on the kitchen counter while Jungkook stands beside you, taking a sip from the whiskey every now and then as you both are enveloped by the silence. After a few minutes, you place the pack of crackers down at the same time when Jungkook suddenly scoffs. He's been in his own world for the past few minutes, clearly thinking and almost forgetting about your presence.

"Isn't it funny?" he asks, tone dripping with sarcasm, hurt and sorrow. He swallows another shot before he continues. "I would be a dad by now,"

You don't think you've ever heard him like this. So empty, yet so broken and angry at the same time. His words make your chest clench, heart fully empathizing with the sadness from all of this. Jungkook would be an amazing dad, whether he'd be ready for it or not. He fully dedicates himself to everything, he always does things at hundred percent. No less.

"All those times," His voice cracks, eyes pinching together as he rubs them while you straighten yourself, staring at him with nothing but sympathy and worry.

However, you keep your mouth shut. It's very rare for Jungkook to be sharing something so personal with you these days and you don't want to ruin it by saying anything. So, you just let him talk and get it off his chest.

"You called me a dad as a joke," Your mouth falls open, eyes watering at the sight of Jungkook's broken glance he gives you. "We joked about that a lot. If only I knew--" He stops himself, visibly taking a deep and shaky breath to stop himself from crying.

Reaching for his arm, you grasp it and pull him towards you. Surprisingly, he doesn't protest but looks at you with a confusion written all over his broken face, until you can't see it anymore because your cheek is pressed against his chest. Cuddling up to him and wrapping your arms around his frame, you hug him tightly.

"I'm so sorry, Kook," you cry to his chest and you feel him tense, before he sighs and hugs you back. "I'm so sorry." you whisper, staining his shirt with your tears he undoubtedly starts to feel.

"It's not your fault..." he mumbles, leaning his cheek against the top of your head.

"I know, but it breaks my heart to see you going through this," you admit, sniffling as you feel him pull away. He meets your teary gaze, giving you a weak smile as he wipes off your tears. "You don't deserve this."

Dropping his hands, he doesn't protest because he knows that's true. It's not selfish of him to admit it. He has never done anything to hurt Kiko. He has always showered her with so much love and respect, and she broke his heart for the second time just like that. You've never seen her being hurt like that when she stormed out of Jungkook's apartment looking like a complete mess. She really is sorry but it's no excuse for what she has done to him. She has ruined him.

"I'm pathetic," Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head as he leans against the kitchen island, right on the opposite side of where you're sitting. "I'm so fucking pathetic,"

You tilt your head to the side, watching him rub his eyes for a moment and you want nothing more than to envelop him in a hug once again.

"I gave her a second chance, I trusted her. I made a fool out of myself, I fucking--I was forgiving her for cheating--a fucking cheating!" he exclaims, making you flinch but you stay glued to your spot, gripping the edge of the counter tightly. "I love--loved her so fucking much, I would give her the world!"

"Kook--"

"And she broke my heart like I never meant anything to her!"

It doesn't matter that it's the middle of the night and he could possibly wake up his neighbors. You're genuinely scared he's going to break all over again. Not because you're scared of him. You're scared for him.

"Would you rather live in a lie?" you ask softly, making him pause for a moment.

"What?" he breathes out.

"Would you rather think she cheated? Or believed she broke up with you because she needed space? I know it hurts, Kook," you say softly and carefully, "I might not fully understand the pain you're going through... but isn't it better that you know the truth? Even if it hurts..."

He knows you're right. She made a fool out of him, just like he said. Maybe not purposely, in a twisted way you understand why she did that, hid the truth from him. To spare him the pain she's been feeling and experiencing on her own, even though... Can their pain be compared? She had a choice, Jungkook hadn't.

"It hurts so much..." he whispers, and you swear you hear your heart cracking. Hopping off the counter, you go straight to hug him all over again.

"What can I do?" you murmur into his shirt, tightening your grip as his hands drop at your shoulders, squeezing them.

"Don't leave me?" he asks unsurely, feeling pathetic to be asking you that and mainly for sounding like a pathetic fool as well.

Giving him the softest smile, your lips slightly wobbling when you look into his big dark eyes. Grabbing one of his hands that's sitting on your shoulder, you squeeze it as you don't break eye contact.

"Never."

And that's enough of a confirmation Jungkook needs, sending you a weak smile for the first time in a long time. When you lead him to his bedroom after turning off the light, leaving the alcohol abandoned on the kitchen counter along with your glass, you both hide yourselves under the covers. You hold his hands, caressing his knuckles and the back of his hands, until your eyes flutter shut and your movements slow down. The last thing you feel is Jungkook doing the same for you, until his hands slow down and he allows himself to fall asleep.

Jungkook has always been an early bird. It's something you've admired about him, or more like have been jealous about. He'd wake up at six in the morning and by the time the clock hit eight, he'd had his breakfast and workout done amongst other things.

Things have changed though. It's not shocking to not see him sleeping next to you by the time you wake up. He might have used to wake up early to be productive, always wanted to do something and despite all of that, he calls himself lazy. But right now, you're not even sure if he even fell asleep to be able to wake up. Your own tiredness chased you down last night and as far as you can remember, it felt like he was still awake by the time your breathing slowed down and dreams awaited for you.

He's distracting himself, this time from the awaited visit from Hoseok that should be coming any minute. It's not hard to figure that out because by the time you clean up yourself in his bathroom and change your clothes, breakfast is already waiting for you with a cup of tea you like.

Jungkook's leaning against the kitchen counter with a spaced out expression and a cup of coffee in his hand, as he slowly brings it to his lips. He looks tired but from your quick checking in, he does look a little bit better.

"Have you slept?" you ask right away, eyeing the breakfast and not sitting down just yet, fully focusing on him to show your persistence. You wonder how many times Jungkook has called you annoying in his head, but it's not like you care that much. Not as long as he gets his sleep.

Brown dark eyes flickering to you, you swear you see the corner of his lips twitching at your straightforwardness, very well known straightforwardness, before he sets down his cup with a click against the marble.

"I have," Is all he says and you sigh, not wanting to pressure him into saying more. "I made you breakfast."

"Just for me?" you cock your brow, happy to see the slightest of his grin and roll of his eyes as you sit down.

"Us," he corrects himself, surprisingly joining you.

Your eyes dancing across his face to check on him from close doesn't go unnoticed by him and he does have a little twinkle of amusement in his eyes. Grinning, you set your eyes on a bowl of fruit with strawberries and raspberries in it. The little chuckle that escapes Jungkook's lips is unheard by you as you grab the spoon and dig in.

"You know, you should eat more in the mornings. You know what they say, it's the most important meal of the day," Jungkook comments, not surprised by your choice out of all the other options on the table.

"And so is sleep," you say with a full mouth, earning Jungkook's daring and raised brow as you swallow the food before continuing. "I'd say it's more important than breakfast."

Jungkook scoffs a little, looking at his empty plate as he serves himself scrambled eggs and bread. "I did sleep."

"You did?" You don't sound convinced, raising your brows with a doubtful look.

Jungkook hums, putting some food into his mouth as he chews on it while you stare at him, slowly eating the breakfast he has prepared for the two of you.

"You don't have to worry about me,"

Yes, you do. You do worry about him because so far, you've never seen him in this state. Barely sleeping, looking so lifeless yet he's keeping himself occupied by working overtime and working out a lot which shouldn't necessarily be the worst thing. It's hard to describe, you're not sure what's good and bad for him but all you know is that he's still deeply hurting and he's keeping it to himself. He's holding it in.

"I slept okay, really."

Is he telling the truth? He still looks tired but he probably got more sleep. He's on edge, knowing today is the day when Hoseok is coming and he could be here anytime. And since he's holding it in, it's hard to say if he's doing better than he was yesterday. You wouldn't say so. Facing Hoseok isn't probably the most pleasant thing to do considering he's been trying to distract himself from Kiko. And since Hoseok is close to her and a big reminder of what she has done, it's like experiencing that pain all over again.

But maybe when Jungkook confided in you more about his thoughts and feelings, it got at least some small amount of weight off his chest. At least you hope so.

"I'm glad, or else I won't ever leave so I can check on you if you're sleeping well." you joke, lips twitching as you look up at Jungkook to see him crack a tiny smile.

He doesn't say anything but the silence isn't awkward at all, both of you eating in silence with thoughts still running. You realize you're even more nervous about Hoseok's visit than you're letting on.

You're worried.

Worried about how Hoseok is feeling about all of this. Worried about how Jungkook is going to react.

So if you're feeling this way, you can't imagine how Jungkook must be feeling.

The moment the doorbell rings, it seems like everything has frozen for a moment. You both know who's about to come upstairs and knock on Jungkook's door any second. The cup of tea that Jungkook has made you is placed on the coffee table by your tensed hands and as you're about to turn to Jungkook, he acts quickly and buzzes Hoseok in. Once he gets back, his eyes avoid you for a moment before he looks at you sitting on his couch with big and uncertain eyes.

It's hard to detect what emotion crosses Jungkook's face. Panic, anxiety, discomfort.

Hoseok coming for Kiko's things that are still laying around his apartment – being the painful reminder of their heart crushing break-up – is still a better option than Kiko coming for them by herself.

Jungkook did say he doesn't want to see her anymore, at least she respects his decision. Although, you think she probably isn't ready to face him as well.

You wish you could hate her though. Yes, you're mad at her for breaking Jungkook's heart all over again. He's in this state because of her lies. But during those weeks ever since Jungkook told you what happened, you thought about it and her a lot. The decision she made hadn't been easy. It's hard to even think about it because nobody knows what was going on inside her head. It's easy to judge but you're not totally sure what she went through.

Yes, you don't think her decision was right – at least her decision to leave Jungkook out of it when he was a huge part of it as well. But it's not your place to judge her decision when it's not you and not your body. You can't possibly imagine what she went through, even though some of it is thanks to her. She did it to herself but still, you find some kind of empathy and you actually feel bad for her.

She should've definitely told Jungkook. He deserved to know and that's a fact. Even if she wasn't planning to start a family with him, or whatever the other reason could be, she should've told him and they could've at least talked about it. Would Jungkook be able to convince her? What would he tell her? It's something you and maybe even Jungkook himself doesn't know.

And as soft knocks can be heard coming from the front door, Jungkook looks like he's ten seconds from truly panicking and all you want is to give him a hug that would help and take away all the stress and pain he's feeling. However, you stand up and send a soft smile his way, offering to get the door which he gives you what looks like a form of thankful smile.

On the other side, as you open the front door but not before taking a deep breath, is standing Hoseok that doesn't look much better. He looks slightly surprised to see you there but it only takes a few seconds. The discomfort is evident on his face, even through the soft smile he sends your way as greeting leaves his mouth.

"Hey," you tell him softly, lifting your lips. "I just--I'm here because--he's not feeling very well." You don't owe any explanation to Hoseok but the words jump out of you before you can keep your mouth shut. Hushed and sad tone makes Hoseok look at you in sympathy.

"I'm sorry," he says sadly, coming inside as you close the door behind him.

Hoseok doesn't look like this is the place he wants to be right now and it's totally understandable if you look at things from his point of view. He knew, but you know he was just as having his best friend's back as you're having Jungkook's. The honesty in his voice isn't hard to miss and you just know he really is sorry about everything.

You're just not a person he should be saying that to.

Nodding, you give him a lipped smile and lead him to Jungkook when he takes off his jacket. Not that he needs you, he knows Jungkook's apartment too but you can see how careful he is with each step he makes, even though his steps are light and rhythmic.

What isn't rhythmic is probably Jungkook's heartbeat when he hears you coming, knowing you're not alone as he hears two sets of steps and the lingering tension with Hoseok's arrival.

Noticing Hoseok's hesitance once you turn to look at him but his eyes are already set on Jungkook, who's standing near the couch not even fully facing you. From the corner of his eyes, he can make out the two of you but doesn't even spare a glance in your direction. Well, Hoseok's.

Hoseok opens his mouth, ready to greet him and Jungkook probably doesn't catch that but the timing is adding even more tension to the whole situation when he speaks first.

"Her stuff is in the bathroom and my room."

You wince at the distant and hard tone he sets. You understand he's upset and you mostly feel sorry for him, but that doesn't mean you don't feel an ounce of pity towards Hoseok as well. He just stands there, features softening and regret written all over again on his face mixed with sadness and understatement.

"Jungkook, I'm--"

"You're what?" Jungkook snaps, this time fully turning towards the two of you looking straight at his friend in anger and betrayal. He doesn't give him a chance to respond because Jungkook is currently a ticking bomb. "Sorry? You knew the whole time and now you're sorry? Don't give me that bullshit," he scoffs, causing Hoseok to sigh as he bites into the inside of his cheek.

"How dare you to look me in the eyes and just be sorry?" The tone of his voice raises but the only thing you can detect is the hurt behind it.

"Jungkook," you mumble as Jungkook is met with your face full of pity and sadness, but he only glances your way before he looks back at Hoseok.

He definitely has more strength to be facing Jungkook because if it was you in his place, you'd be a crying mess if Jungkook looked and spoke to you that way. And you almost whimper when Hoseok makes his way over to Jungkook, not sure if that's a good idea judging by Jungkook's sharp glare.

"Yes, Jungkook, I'm sorry," he says calmly, "I know you're mad at me and you've every reason to be, I fucked up and I've regretted that every time I thought about you,"

He walks past him towards one of the doors of Jungkook's bathroom and bedroom, stopping and turning to him once again.

"But she didn't want you to know and I had to respect that as her friend."

"Don't give me that bullshit!" Jungkook yells, causing you to flinch because even though you know he's mad, you weren't expecting him to yell as soon as Hoseok finishes his sentence. "You're my friend too! You were joking with me this whole time, we hung out and you looked me in the eyes knowing she was pregnant with my baby! You fucking knew and never said one fucking word!"

Hoseok's breath trembles as he takes a breath but keeps being composed despite Jungkook's evident anger.

Jungkook takes a few steps towards Hoseok and you tense before you do the same. You're not part of this, this is between them but you don't want this to end up in a huge fight.

"When did you find out?" he asks slowly with a warning tone, causing Hoseok to look down in shame for a moment before he finds the courage to look him in the eyes again.

"Jung--"

"Stop Jungkook me, just answer. You can at least do that much."

You frown, not really liking the tense atmosphere that gets tense with each second and word Jungkook or Hoseok say.

"She told me when she asked me to accompany her, she was broken, Jungkook. There's nothing I could've done to change her op--"

Jungkook lashes at Hoseok, grabbing him by the collar of his hoodie and you yelp, rushing towards them.

But Hoseok keeps talking, wanting to give Jungkook his answer. "She begged me not to tell--"

For one moment, it feels like a flashback from the New Year's Eve party when Jungkook lashed at Haneul, throwing a great punch to his face. But then... this is a completely different moment and you see Jungkook's fist in the air, causing you to act quickly. Hoseok betrayed him but he stayed loyal to his best friend, you're not sure if punching him would solve anything. Maybe it would even make Jungkook feel worse knowing he punched his good friend, whether he hurt him or not. It's not really Hoseok's fault for not knowing about Kiko's pregnancy.

You know it's stupid but you also don't want him to do something stupid because of how he feels. And before Jungkook can deliver a good and hard punch to Hoseok's shocked face, you're standing between them yelling at Jungkook to stop. The last thing you see is Jungkook's big shocked eyes as you close your eyes in reflex, opening them and finding his arm in the air stopping at the right time.

One second you see his life flash in front of his eyes and the next he's frowning that slowly turns into anger. "What thefuck are you doing? I could've fucking hit you!"

He sounds panicked, genuinely angry that you'd throw yourself like that between them, risking the chance of getting hit by Jungkook. He would never be able to forgive himself for that if that happened. You're stupid for doing that, you realize your mistake but it's important he stopped and hasn't hit anyone. That's a win, right?

"Jungkook stop, just let him get her things..." you plead with him, features softening as Jungkook drops his arm but rubs his eyes.

Taking his hands, you give them a good squeeze and one look in his eyes. He's glancing between your eyes, shifting his gaze quickly before he sighs. With one movement he turns around and starts walking to the couch where he sits, elbows already leaning against his knees as he grabs the back of his head.

The view pains you and glancing at Hoseok, he watches Jungkook with the same look before he looks at you.

"That was stupid, you know? You could've gotten punched." he says softly, silent 'thank you' lingering in his brown soft eyes.

"We all do stupid things, don't we?" you shrug, lightly chuckling as he tries to imitate a form of smile that comes out sad, the last thing he does before walking to Jungkook's bathroom.

Jungkook must've collected all Kiko's things when he was going back and forth between his room and bathroom, leaving you sipping on the tea while trying to distract yourself by watching some movie on his Netflix account. That's probably what he was doing when you heard clicking and rummaging because Hoseok comes out of the bathroom in a minute, holding a cosmetic bag with a few things in his hands too.

He does the same thing in the bathroom, coming out with a bigger shopping bag that Jungkook usually takes with him while doing a bigger grocery shopping. It must've taken a lot for Jungkook to search for her things and put them in one place for her.

Accompanying Hoseok to the front door, he looks disappointed and sad from not being able to say goodbye to Jungkook because he still holds his head in his hands, clearly not wanting to talk. It was painful to watch Hoseok open his mouth and then close it when he saw Jungkook in the same position.

"She has been going to therapy ever since she..." Hoseok reveals and trails off quietly, causing Jungkook to scoff.

"Is that my fault?" he asks bitterly. He's going to need one thanks to her too, he thinks.

Hoseok glances at you, giving you a saddened look once again as he shakes his head. "No, it's not... I'm just telling you that she's been suffering too, even though she is the one who made a decision."

Jungkook doesn't move, not sparing him a glance which Hoseok takes as his cue.

As Hoseok bids you a soft and quiet goodbye, you do the same thing and release breath as soon as the door clicks closed. Walking to Jungkook, you join him on the couch and put an arm over his shoulders while your head leans against his.

"Is he gone?"

"Yeah," you sigh, "He's gone."

You don't tell Jungkook it wouldn't be smart to hit Hoseok, as much as he thinks he deserves it. You don't even tell him how sorry you are because he knows and there's no need to say that. So you stay quiet, leaning back with him until you both fall asleep in one of the most uncomfortable positions and wake up with cranked necks and throbbing neck and shoulders pain.

You don't go to clubs often.

Scratch that. You try not to go to clubs often but with a friend like Taehyung, it's bound to visit them at least once in a while, usually when he drags you not really giving you a choice. The blasting music that's been invading your ears for the past hour is a perfect example of that.

However, you're not the one who's been dragged here involuntarily, although you've never wanted to come here in the first place. Not that you don't like this club, not at all. This has to be the club where you feel the most comfortable in and it definitely has to do something with you working here before. After all, it's been only a month since you stopped working here and finally saved up enough money for a better car. Something you hadn't failed to mention to Jungkook at one of your attempts of checking on him and barging inside his apartment. You had talked a lot during that time, tried to update him with the littlest thing that has happened in your life.

Speaking of Jungkook, he's been tonight's victim of Taehyung's doing but surprisingly, he agreed to a proposed dinner when the first message from Taehyung suggested it in the morning. You should've known he had something up his sleeve when he suggested club before you could even finish your meal. So you got separated, changed your clothes and then met up again.

And here you are.

Tracing your finger around the rim of your glass, your gaze falls upon your best friend standing at the bar, getting hit on again. Slim and tall blonde woman is standing next to him, flashing him with a pretty smile that you can't see but can probably imagine here and there. You've lost count of those women. This is maybe third? Not that it would matter anyway, you kind of feel bad for him though. He looks uninterested but still polite enough to not turn her down, since she's obviously still standing there and batting her eyelashes at him.

Poor Jungkook, all he went for is another round of drinks but he's been standing there for the past fifteen minutes talking to her. You can see he's still not feeling himself, even though he agreed to come here and you get an idea it has something to do with what happened yesterday with Hoseok.

"Don't even say it,"

You look at Taehyung who sits down next to you, flashing you with a boxy grin when your eyes flicker to the mark on his neck that he hasn't cared enough to cover. Yes, Mr. "I'm going to use the restroom", sure. Was it the redhead he danced or the small petite woman he chatted with at a bar? Or with Taehyung, it could've been someone completely different.

"This is a bad idea, that's what you're thinking right? It's written all over your face." Taehyung runs his finger in front of your face to prove your point as you roll your eyes at him.

"I'm not saying this is a bad idea," you point out, earning a glance from Taehyung with his brow raised. "I'm surprised Jungkook agreed to come here and I'm actually glad he finally hangs out with us outside of his apartment,"

All of that is true.

Taehyung always thinks whenever someone has their issues, the best thing to solve is to loosen up but you're not entirely sure if getting drunk is the right way to solve any of this.

Jungkook has been down, that's for sure but at least he starts to communicate more and he even laughs at Taehyung's and Jimin's attempts of trying to make him laugh, or even when they're not even trying but are just being themselves. He is better, but he's still that same broken person that experienced a massive pain of loss and heartbreak. That doesn't just go away, not even in months despite you can see a little bit of progress on his part. Who knows what Jungkook isn't sharing with any of you, no matter how many times he has assured you that he is fine. You all are worried about him, you all just have a different approach to it.

"We just don't know how he'll be if he gets drunk. Have you thought about that?"

Of course, Jungkook is an adult and you don't have to watch over him as if he is a kid. You know Jungkook used to drink alcohol to help himself to sleep, he told you he's not doing that anymore but is it really true?

Taehyung considers your words, thinking about them for a moment before he sighs and places his arm around your shoulders. "I don't know either," he admits, "But at least we will be here for him?" he asks in a thought which you nod but sigh nevertheless.

"That's not the point, Tae... purposely trying to bring him to a club and getting him drunk just sounds and seems stupid." You give him a look, knowing exactly how he ushered everyone to take a shot as soon as you stepped into the club.

And of course there's a high chance all of you will drink. You're in a freaking club! It's almost as if you're asking for alcohol if you decide to spend your Saturday in a club.

"Hey, now! I tried my best!" Taehyung exclaims, shining you with his boxy grin in his usual playful mode.

You're not quite sure if Taehyung truly understands what worries you but you decide to leave it be. Jungkook can do whatever he wants and as his friend, you're worried about him but there's not much you can do. He's definitely aware of what Jungkook is going through, but he also never experienced any heartbreak to begin with. Taehyung's way of thinking is different as well and maybe to a certain extent, he's right.

Jungkook is finally out of his apartment hanging out with you without any of you having to come to his apartment uninvited. That's progress. But is the club really the greatest place to bring him into? You're not sure about that.

"And who knows, maybe he'll meet someone else here today. Or just have fun with someone," Taehyung shrugs, while your eyes almost fall out of their sockets from how casually he says it.

Is he seriously hinting at what you're thinking?

"He just had his heart broken," you point out, meeting Taehyung's eyes. "Besides he's not the type to have one night stands."

That's true, all of you know it so the chance of that happening tonight is not big. And for a moment you seem to be a little bit shocked at that thought, worried Jungkook will turn into someone he's not because of what happened to him.

"Well, I didn't think he was the type to fuck his best friend and look at you!"

Mouth falling open, you shrug and punch Taehyung in the shoulder while he doesn't seem bothered at all at how blunt he is. He shrugs, grinning at you and before any of you can say something, your two other friends finally join you with new and fresh drinks. From Taehyung's comment, you automatically reach for your drink ignoring his smug face from the corner of your eyes.

"I had to save our Jungkookie," Jimin laughs, squeezing Jungkook's shoulder who's sitting on the opposite side of the table from you.

"Women just wouldn't leave him alone."

"Are we surprised? Look at him!"

Taehyung is right.

One look at Jungkook and you understand the attention he's getting from women, which isn't that much of a surprise because people turn after him all the time.

The funniest thing is that Jungkook has put almost zero effort into his outfit. Just a casual black button up and jeans can be considered as effortless, right? But still, he's pulling it off because everything he's wearing at the moment compliments his body proportions, showing his hard work at the gym and his fit body. His hair is parted in the middle, kind of the only way to style his hair since it's long. You've caught him pulling off a man-bun a few times, but he only wears it to get the hair out of his face which occasionally happens when he's at home, working or working out like he told you once you complimented his longer hair, scolding him when he told you he's thinking about getting it cut back to short since apparently, the long hair is nuisance.

Your own outfit is nothing too crazy and you haven't put that much effort into it either. Just one of your short sleeved tight dresses which you usually wear during summer times in the daylight. It's definitely not the sexiest and prettiest outfit you've worn when partying, but it hugs your body nicely and it's comfortable. That's all that matters. Your hair is in a tight ponytail, showing off your features and cheekbones even more with the casual makeup you had done for the day and the accessories that are your small round earrings and necklace sitting between your collarbones adds a little bit more effort to your already normal and nothing special outfit.

The night feels weird and the only people in the mood for partying are Taehyung and Jimin. And when the conversation finally averts in a different direction, leaving Jungkook alone and the attention he's getting, you relax and start to enjoy your never ending drinks.

Drunk Taehyung is stupid.

You've no idea what that man thought when he brought a foreign woman into your shared booth, playing a wingman to the poor Jungkook who had seemed clueless for the first minute. That has changed when Taehyung didn't forget to mention she's a photographer just like Jungkook, ushering her to sit next to him and show him her photos.

At first, you couldn't imagine her as a photographer. She is pretty though, obviously knows how to dress up and do her make-up. More on the petite side but her gift from God in the form of perky and bigger breasts are hard to miss. Brown eyes and a nice smile, she seemed a little bit shy at first but as soon as Jungkook noticed it (and maybe her discomfort as well since Taehyung wouldn't keep an eye off their interaction), she relaxed.

"This is not my attempt to get him to hook-up with someone," he tells you as Jungkook shows her his own photos, causing her to gush at his talent that you know very well.

All of you do.

You flick him off on his forehead when he gets too close, the alcohol causing you to cringe while he doesn't look mad and blinds you with a grin.

"I think it'd be good for him to meet someone and talk to someone, uh, new. Other than you, no offense."

"Thanks," you mutter through your glare, "Whatever that's supposed to mean."

You wish Jimin was here, he disappeared once again saying he has to use the restroom. How much has this man drunk? If he was here, he'd surely have your back and tell Taehyung his idea is stupid.

"It means," he points out with nose held high, "You're getting old, sweetheart,"

He is crazy.

You stare at him confusingly with brows furrowed so much that your eyebrows start to hurt.

"The two of you are a lost cause, so it's better Jungkook starts to meet new people, women or whatever he prefers. You know, dips his toes here and there."

"You mean dipping something else..." you mutter, ignoring Taehyung's laugh.

"True, true," he purses his lips, "But no, he can do whatever he wants. He doesn't have to dip anything in--"

"You're so wasted, man," you cut him off, rubbing your forehead. "I'm gonna get myself another drink because I can't stand your drunk ass at the moment."

"Oh, can you get me one too?"

"No, you've had enough. Maybe try bubblegum." You move past him, silently laughing at the loud gasp that can be heard even through the music.

Taehyung's loud voice is the last thing you hear coming from the booth as you make it to the bar.

"Rude!"

"She seemed nice," Jimin comments, scooting closer to Jungkook who looks confused for a while but that's very short lived when he notices Jimin's eyes flickering to Ester who's already disappearing in the crowd.

"How do you know? You weren't even here," Jungkook mutters loudly enough for him to hear, grabbing his drink and taking a long sip from it.

"Taehyung told me, I met him on my way here."

Of course, he did.

He left shortly after you but not before giving a very "subtle" wink to him, clearly hinting at Ester. Which reminds him he has no idea where you went because before he could ask Taehyung, he used the opportunity to leave him alone. He's not stupid, Taehyung is never subtle when it comes to everything. He's like an open book and Jungkook is very aware of Taehyung's doing.

He had to admit. It was nice to talk to someone that doesn't know what he's been through. There was no pity in her brown eyes when she was talking to him. She was nice, not hitting on him like Taehyung may have expected.

He's not sure if he's ever going to see her again, but he does follow her Instagram account. They followed each other as soon as they started discussing photography and all the things his friends don't really understand. You're usually interested, so you ask and Jungkook explains whatever you're interested in, but it's different to talk about it with someone who truly knows these things.

It felt new... and fresh.

"Where were you anyway?" he asks, arching a brow at Jimin and his frequent disappearance throughout the night.

His friend scans Jungkook's face for a moment, long enough to leave Jungkook wondering even more but then he just shrugs. "Just needed some air. I'm not feeling it tonight."

That is not something you usually hear Jimin to say when it comes to clubbing. Although, he's not as wild as Taehyung is and there were times when Jimin simply wasn't feeling it, just like he called it. Very rare times though.

"Any of us is," Jungkook says," Maybe except Taehyung."

"Yeah, I guess we all have our reasons," Jimin shrugs, "But I'm glad you're here, Kook. Maybe it's not fun as usual but it's nice to finally hang out with you."

Outside of his apartment with a grim atmosphere, he means.

"Yeah, I guess it was time for me to try and enjoy myself more. I can't handle Y/N looking at me as if I'm a kicked puppy she needs to constantly check on." he chuckles.

He doesn't mean it badly. He knows you're worried about him, just like you would be if that happened to any of them. He hoped that agreeing to come here tonight would ease your nerves but judging from the look of it, you're not really in the mood to be clubbing too. Which reminds him all over again where the hell did you go. It's not smart of you to go alone, even though you're inside. None of that matters when men are pigs inside or outside of the club.

On the other side, Jimin understands what Jungkook means and nods along with his words.

"Well, I think she needs to loosen up too. She's been having a hard time with the landlord after all, which is understandable..."

"Wait, what?"

You're having a hard time? Landlord? What the hell is Jimin talking about? This definitely sounds like news to him.

"You don't know?" Jimin looks even more shocked.

He'd think Jungkook was the first person you told to but clearly he's not.

"Her contract is ending in two months and apparently the owner's daughter is moving in there, so he wouldn't extend her contract. It happened unexpectedly and the landlord has been apologizing, at least he's feeling shitty about it but yeah, she's in a very fucked up situation right now."

Jungkook stares at his drink barely blinking as he lets the news sink in. He has so many questions but it seems that even though Jimin knows way more about it, he doesn't know any further details.

"What is she going to do?"

"I don't know, the last time I asked her she told me she'll have to look for another apartment."

"But she bought her own furniture there and she has lived there for two years—they can't do that to her."

Jimin's features soften, shrugging because he knows what Jungkook is feeling right now. Frustration, that's what he felt too when you told him the news, almost breaking in tears from the frustration, anger and sadness.

"I told her she can crash at my place but you know what she's like..."

Eyeing the barman's back, you wish he would just do your drink quickly before anyone tries to take their move on you, so you can join your friends. He must be new, you think. You've never seen him here.

You've spotted Mark once and minus the faint greeting you both had at the beginning of the night, you haven't seen him since then or talked to him.

Almost jumping at the body brushing against your shoulder as someone sits next to you, you're instantly met with a set of dark brown eyes you've grown familiar with over the years. Well, you've to admit you feel happy to see him here and him bringing a feeling of safety with him.

"You've a trouble with your landlord?"

You're speechless for a second, shaking yourself off from the momentary surprise by letting out a sigh. "Who told you?" you ask, glancing away at the barman before you look back at him. "Jimin or Tae?"

"They both know?" Jungkook sounds surprised, noticing the look of guilt on your face. It's okay, he's not mad at you or something. He's just surprised you haven't told him about your trouble, despite you've been filling him in with every possible detail of your life for the past two months.

It just feels weird that you suddenly left such important information. Something you told Jimin and Taehyung but not to him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks softly, leaning his elbows against the bar but he keeps his eyes on you.

"I didn't want to worry you..." you answer, "It's not like I didn't want to tell you, but you've been dealing with your own shit and I guess--it's not even that important."

"Like hell it's not," Jungkook exclaims, "It is important. Just because I'm dealing with my own shit doesn't mean I can't deal with yours too,"

That makes both of you laugh a little but you shake your head, not really knowing how to justify your decision of not telling him other than what you've just told him. You'd tell him eventually. You've been searching for a new car as well, something Jungkook told you he's going to help you with but that was way before the biggest bomb dropped on him and had a massive impact on him.

"What are you going to do?"

You're not sure if this is the greatest topic to talk about while On The Floor by Jennifer Lopez is playing, but you've no problem talking about this with Jungkook.

"I've started to look for different apartments, something where I can move in quickly since my contract is ending in two months, actually, shorter than that... I found this nice apartment, it's not as nice as the one I have but it'll do. I have to live somewhere, the rent is a little bit cheaper but I can definitely see why."

The photos on the internet you found doesn't look very good but it seems like a decent place to live in. Maybe until you'll figure out something different. The apartment you live in at the moment has a great location, it had been definitely a bargain when you found it and had been able to move in.

However, there are far worse looking apartments and this one isn't even that bad. It's just that you got used to the one you live in right now and it'll be tough to say goodbye to it. You wish you could be mad at the owner, which you were for the first two weeks, but you also understand that he followed the contract and basically has done nothing wrong.

He has a daughter and she's going to use that apartment, maybe she needs it and like a father, he's helping her.

"Is it that bad?"

"It's not," you wave your hand, "Just not as nice as my current apartment. Plus, it's in Dobong."

"Dobong?" Jungkook's eyes widened, "But that's almost on the other side where you live now."

You chuckle at his reaction because yes, you're very aware. "I know..."

"Y/N, that's so far away from here. What about your work?"

"I'd have to travel? Or maybe they can move me somewhere closer? I don't know, Jungkook." you murmur, growing frustrated all over again at the thought because you clearly haven't figured it out yet.

Jungkook's questions are just reality, reminding you that you don't have much time before you have to make a decision. Not that you've much of a choice.

"But you're gonna be away from us... from me... from Tae and Jimin."

When he says it like that, simply pointing it out but with saddened eyes, you feel like crying because the thought of being away from your friends and all alone scares you more than you'd like to admit. Over the years, you've grown independent, more than you ever were and you're proud of yourself because of that. But not having them close like you're having them right now (and even now, you don't exactly live super close but the distance isn't that huge) makes you want to cry out from the frustration.

"Don't say it like that," you whisper, looking at your lap. "I don't really have a choice. Other apartments are expensive as fuck, I can't afford it Kook. The prices went high and they go high every year. It's hard to find a good and affordable apartment in Seoul."

Jungkook turns to you on the bar stool, hooking a finger under your chin making you look at you. "We'll think of something, okay? You're not leaving me."

You chuckle at his bunny grin and wiggling brows, suddenly pouting causing Jungkook to grab you by your shoulders as he brings you closer to him, giving you the hug you desperately need.

He smells so nice. You take a whiff, cheeks pressed against his shoulder and enjoy a few seconds before you've to pull apart because the barman finally brings you your drink.

"Let's not think about it for tonight, yeah?" he proposes, "Let's enjoy this night. No bad thoughts. No Kiko,"

Your eyes shoot up to his at the mention of her but Jungkook just offers you a grin. "No apartment problem. Just us having fun, okay?"

"Sounds good," you tell him, taking a sip from your drink. "Where's your new friend, by the way?"

"Who?" Jungkook looks confused, a realization hitting him right after. "Ah, you mean Ester. Our paths have divided."

"She was pretty." you comment, watching Jungkook's reaction as he stares at you quietly.

"Are you on it with Taehyung?" He eyes you suspiciously.

"What? No!" you exclaim, refuting his assumption right away. "I told him it's a stupid idea."

"It is," Jungkook hums, grabbing your drink and taking a sip from it, frowning for a moment as he nods at the sweet taste. "If I wanted to hook-up with some woman, I could easily do that on my own. I don't need Taehyung's help."

Laughing, you nod. "Yeah, you probably could."

"Probably?" Jungkook scoffs playfully, causing you to giggle. "All Taehyung can think about is sex, he thinks that solves everything."

"Maybe not everything, but he definitely thinks it solves everything temporarily," you point out which Jungkook agrees with, "Besides, all men think about is sex all the time."

"Hm, I can see your point," Jungkook purses his lips, "But sometimes it's hard not to think about sex when there's a beautiful woman."

You look up at him from your drink, finding him staring at you causing you to almost choke on the liquid as you clear your throat, putting down the glass as you arch your brow at him shamelessly. "Are you subtly flirting with me, Jeon?"

"Do you want me to?"

Fuck, this man is shameless sometimes.

Do you want him to?

The butterflies coming alive in your stomach are most likely a good answer for that. But it's very dangerous, no matter how exciting and good it feels.

But then Jungkook bursts out laughing, scrunching his nose at your face as you slap his shoulder, frowning annoyingly at your drink. "Dickhead."

"Hey now," Jungkook playfully frowns, "Come on, finish your drink and let's dance."

You're not sure if any physical contact with Jungkook is a good idea right now, especially when you feel your heart picking up its pace and the sight of Jungkook brushing fingers through his hair isn't helping at all.

"Why?" Trying to find a way to get yourself out of this, even though the thought of dancing with Jungkook is tempting and it's been a while since you had fun with him in a form of dance. "Why don't you go find Erica and dance with her? I'll sit here and cheer you on!"

You propose lightly and innocently, although devilish glint in your eyes as you look up at him, lips wrapped around the rim of your glass causing Jungkook to frown.

"Her name is Ester," And you want to roll your eyes, and what? "And I'd much rather dance with you."

Fucking Jungkook and his mouth for letting such words come out. His honesty, no matter how it sounds when you think about what he just said now, your head spins. You're not drunk, the drinks you've been drinking are low percentage alcohol but you feel slightly relaxed from it. And it's dangerous because your mind already wanders into places it shouldn't have.

So you do what you know the best and you start whining, masking your panicked heartbeat and mind. "I'll look like an idiot next to you!" And you mean it in more ways than just one.

First of all, you're not drunk enough to feel confident to dance with him. It's not just silly dancing you do at home or more private parties. The clubs are big and there are drunk people everywhere and you doubt everyone will have their eyes on you, but still. Jungkook is already like a magnet for eyes.

"That's not true," Jungkook disagrees, grabbing your wrist gently as he shakes it a little. "Just one dance, then. Please."

And he pouts, widening his eyes just like he knows – in that innocent and cute way that makes you shut your eyes as you let out a loud groan, knowing you've lost. "Okay, but I'm gonna finish my drink and you're going to have one too."

He sits back like an obedient student, flashing you with a bunny grin.

"Deal."

Jungkook's convincing skills are good, just not as good as yours. Finishing your drink meant two more and Jungkook's one drink turned into three, all thanks to your pleading eyes and shameless begging and Jungkook's soft spot for you.

"You're trying to get out of this, you still owe me one dance." Jungkook has told you when the barman placed the second round for the two of you.

"The night is still young, Jeon, relax." you've told him in return, sending him a grin with your glass in the air in a silent and yet another cheers.

You've to admit, as much as dancing with Jungkook sounds exciting, talking to him like nothing bad is happening in your lives feels refreshing and you wish the reality wouldn't get to you tomorrow morning. Or ever.

But it seems some things get to you sooner or later.

It's the time when your bladder lets you know you've to really use the restroom, no matter how much fun you're having with Jungkook and mindlessly planning your friend's summer vacation. Jungkook laughs when you excuse yourself, admitting you're ten seconds from peeing yourself and he turns around in his chair towards the dance floor, having a perfect view of the restroom in case somebody would bother you.

The gesture is sweet and you can't hide the little grin on your lips when your eyes meet, before you really usher to the restroom. Once you're done, bladder empty and hands cold from the water, you're completely thrown off when someone calls your name just a few meters away from you.

Voice you haven't heard in months but remember perfectly despite your short relationship.

Haneul walking towards you with soft eyes makes your heart skip a beat, but not in the good and exciting way but quite the opposite. You're too shocked to see him right here, in front of you looking just like you remember him because there's barely a change in his appearance. He looks good, very similar to what he looked like when you first met him. Black leather jacket, jeans and some shirt under his jacket, it's like some weird deja vu happening right now and you've to blink a few times to convince yourself he's real.

"Hi," he says as he stops, offering you a hesitant smile which you don't return because you're too busy staring at him as your brows slowly scrunch into frown. "I just spotted you and wanted to say hi. Don't worry, I've no bad intentions."

He better not because you're not scared to deal with him. But one look at him and his soft features, you start to feel guilty for being in a slightly panicked and careful mode. It's not like you've a reason to be scared of him. You broke up and even though the memory of your last conversation still slightly hurts, you've no hatred feelings towards him. You wish him well and you really think he's not a bad person.

"Well... hi, then." you mutter, mentally slapping yourself. It's more than clear you've no idea how to react to him and to Haneul, you look weirded out by his sudden approach to you.

"I don't want you to think I stalk you..." he says, glancing at his feet in embarrassment.

"Why did you come to the club I worked at?" Hence the past tense that doesn't go missed by Haneul and you see surprise and curiosity cross his features but he doesn't have the guts to ask.

"My friends wanted to come here. Listen, I can leave if I make you uncomfortable." he says simply, offering you a shrug that means he won't be mad if you tell him you don't want him here.

Which is stupid because he's free to visit whatever places he wants to. Your break-up wasn't that bad to the point you couldn't be able to be with him in the same room. It is weird he's here, knowing you met here and you still worked here just a month ago. There is a high chance he knew you could be here and if he really wanted to avoid seeing you, he wouldn't come here whether his friends wanted him to or not.

But that's kind of selfish and you're overthinking things once again. Maybe it's not that dramatic.

"No, stay," you tell him, "I'm just surprised to see you again..."

It's polite to ask how he is but you're not sure if you want to have a friendly conversation with him. You've come to the terms that it's best not to keep him in your life and even a simple conversation is not necessary in your opinion. You moved on and you hope he did as well.

"Okay," he murmurs, "I--enjoy your night."

And with that, he turns around and leaves. You watch him long enough to see his friends in the background as he joins them, but before you can watch any further or any possible stares his friends could give you, you're already walking to the bar.

Jungkook is still there, not noticing you right away as his eyes stay attached to the dance floor while his fingers drum against the bar stool to the catchy music. "Oh, you're here!" he exclaims, briefly lisping from how quickly he says it.

He doesn't give you any time to react, already standing up as he leads you to the dance floor, tossing you a handsome grin over his shoulders. Realizing you've no chance, you deduce you feel tipsy enough to allow yourself to loosen up, even with Jungkook's close proximity and hands on your hips and yours on his biceps.

++

Jungkook's one dance never ends with one dance and when Jungkook wants to dance, he has to be in a good mood which you think is an amazing change. The alcohol flows freely in your body, the last three drinks you recordly gulp down causing everything to feel numb.

Everything besides Jungkook's hands.

You like the feeling of freedom the alcohol brings you. Overthinking is left somewhere else, letting you enjoy every second and touch of this. What in your more sober state you wouldn't appreciate about it though, is the lack of control you're having over your own thoughts and needs.

It's a hard task to stay unaffected and you're failing miserably, feeling your insides tingle with excitement that you thought is long gone but it's proved only Jungkook can make it come to life. You're both still tipsy which is good because it means none of you is drunk. Tipsy enough to want to get even closer to Jungkook which is freaking stupid, because he's already close enough as it is.

Your back pressed against his chest, ass brushing against his crotch and the zip of his jeans doing the same thing here and there seems like a big deal. You're selfish, because instead of putting some distance between your dancing and slowly getting sweaty bodies, your arm stays outstretched behind you, hand holding the back of his head and fingers buried in those dark locks of his. The other arm is holding the one of his hands that's on your hip.

Jungkook's warm breath hitting the crook of your neck causing you to shudder – shudder out of excitement and Jungkook himself.

You know you've lost. It's too late to end this – at least that's what you tell yourself because you don't want to end this. You wish he'd just lean down and press those lips onto your neck like he knows you love. You wish you could feel his hard dick and it's embarrassing how wet it feels between your thighs, even though his bulge is nowhere in its full hard-on state.

God, you're fucked. And tipsy. And horny.

And fucking stupid because when you shamelessly grind your ass against Jungkook, there's no chance it looks like an accident. If you could turn around and look at him, you'd see him biting his lower lip.

His hands squeeze your hips, almost the same way they did when he was balls deep inside you. Fuck, you forgot how that feels and you're ashamed to be even thinking this. It's not right. He's going through a break-up, no matter how many weeks have passed and you're best friends. The deal ended a long time ago, so what the fuck are you doing?

Jungkook's lips brush against your jaw, nose nudging it right after as you whimper, thankfully the sound gets masked by the loud music and bass that vibrate through your body. Everything is hazy, just not Jungkook.

"Are you trying to make me hard?" he asks lowly, almost amusingly and he sounds so hot that you've a urge to turn around and kiss him, just because he's close and you're fucking horny thanks to him.

Get a grip, Y/N, don't do a fucking mistake just because you're tipsy and haven't had sex since December. You went without sex longer than this, so why the fuck are you getting so desperate?

"Is it working?" you ask breathlessly, loudly for him to hear and you want to mentally slap yourself, but the temptation and excitement are holding the upper hand here.

"I'm trying not to get hard," Jungkook points out, the same low and deep tone as if he's telling you the deepest secret. "Don't start something you can't finish."

And that spurs you on even more, accepting the challenge as you turn around, staring right into Jungkook's dark and very much awake eyes. He has a lazy grin on his lips, living for the fire in your eyes and you're not sure if it's whether he's amused by all of this or if he's feeling it too.

"You out of people should know I never start something I can't finish,"

Hinting at something that hasn't been talked about for a very long time, because you both came to conclusion it haven't affected negatively your friendship and you're still the two best friends you've been, Jungkook's features darken and it's unbelievable you can see it even through the shitty club lightning.

Hands brushing against his chest, you slowly brush them down against his toned abs that you can feel through his button-up, causing you to bite off the gasp that wants to get out. He's definitely much buffer than the last time you got to properly touch him like this.

"Did you forget?"

There's the boost of confidence growing inside you, very much thanks to the alcohol and probably hormones that are making you do and say all these crazy things.

Jungkook chuckles, the corner of his lips lifting in a smirk as if he sees right through you. Can he see how much he tempts you? Is it just one of those times you're teasing each other but are very close to playing with fire? You're not sure, but you're enjoying the thrill his eyes bring to you as they stare at you, crinkling at the ends while his hand touches a few restless baby hair and strands that got messy and slipped from your ponytail.

"You out of all people should know I never forget,"

Breath hitching, it takes you a moment to release a giggle and you've no idea why you're suddenly giggling, maybe it's mostly the way he wiggles his brows – something he does frequently when he's just fooling around.

"Shut up," you tell him, making him laugh while you watch him throw his head back a little before he's looking at you with a wide grin. "I need to use the restroom."

"Again?" he asks teasingly, causing you to roll your eyes as you take a step back from him, letting your body calm down – at least trying for it.

"You," you tell him loudly, a grin spreading on your lips as you slowly back away. "Are dangerous, Jeon."

Turning around and silently giggling, you don't hear Jungkook's next words that are practically impossible for you to hear because he mutters it amusingly and the loud music definitely helps as well.

"So are you, Y/L/N..."

The reflection in the mirror you see as you wash your hands and finally look up to check your appearance is almost fascinating. Fascinating, because you almost don't recognize yourself – you look different. Face flushed, there's a thin coat of sweat layered on your skin and maybe it's the make-up slowly melting off, but what catches your attention the most are your wide sparkly eyes.

Jungkook still affects you and wishing you could be angry at him for it, your heart starts excitedly jumping instead at the memory of you on the dancefloor. You're not sure what the two of you are doing, if you're just fooling around and having fun or there are deeper undertones of your teasing and subtle flirting. Is it flirting? You and Jungkook would often fool around and tease each other which to some, it'd look like flirting. It's confusing and even you can't tell which one happened just a few minutes ago, but all you know is that it felt nice and exciting.

When two girls barge into the restroom giggling, drunkenly stumbling into one of the toilets, you shake yourself out of your daze and finish washing your hands in a hot water that almost burns your skin but you're too distracted to care. Messily drying them with a paper towel, you get out of there with a plan of joining Jungkook once again.

However, you're stopped by a body you bump into around the corner and the quick apology is once again on your lips, but you stop as you're met with a familiar pair of eyes. You realize there's a small percentage the whole bumping incident is a pure incident. Haenul's not surprised and apologetic eyes say it all, causing you to sigh.

"What do you want?"

You don't sound cold and rude, just exhausted. You're having a good time, after a long time, and you don't need to deal with any of this right now.

Haneul might've not planned to literally bump into you, but he has been waiting for you to get out of the restroom ever since he saw you coming there. You see his eyes slightly wide, the hint of alcohol tracing his soft features and even though he's hovering over you with his tall figure, he looks small but confident enough to face you.

"I just wanted to talk... Do you have a minute?" he asks, reaching for your arm as he gently grabs your forearm and tugs you away from the group of guys drunkenly joining the dancefloor.

Shaking his hand off, you frown, not letting yourself get soft by his attentive gesture of you not getting tossed around like a toy because of some drunk guys who don't care about anyone around them.

"Haneul, I thought we talked about this..." you sigh, telling him loud enough because you'd like to avoid repeating yourself.

"Please, just hear me out and I'll leave you alone, for real," he pleads with you, causing you to motion for him to continue.

Did he see you with Jungkook? You completely forgot about him being in this club. You're not sure if Jungkook or alcohol is to blame. Or maybe it's you, you probably should've been more considerate about Haneul still being here. But still, you're broken up and it's not like you've done anything wrong. You shouldn't feel guilty about this.

"I know I apologized before but I--I miss you so much,"

Wait, is this where he starts to beg you for a second chance?

Before you get to ask, he's already continuing.

"I can't believe I hurt you like that--I don't know why I'm telling you this, I don't know why I felt the need to talk to you again but I just saw you--"

He's drunk. Drunker than you thought he was.

He gets closer and you're stuck in your spot, unable to react properly as he strokes your cheek. All you can do is stare at him. Mentally screaming at yourself to react somehow, you're frozen while letting him touch you. He steps closer, hovering over you even more as his lips are close to your cheek to the point you can feel his warmth.

"We both have a reason to be mad at each other," he murmurs, "But I miss you so much... I wish I could kiss you, even if it's the last time."

The truth is that even though you're not physically or verbally reacting, you're having a whole inner mental battle going on. Do you want this? Do you want him to be this close to you? He's here talking about missing and kissing you, how do you feel about it? You're tipsy and horny, something that is because of Jungkook (the second part at least) and in your current state, you wonder what you even want. What do you even think about this?

Your thoughts are going slow and Haneul keeps talking, talking about how much he misses you and he really thinks he loves you despite the last words you told him when you broke up with him. Too much is going on you and you scream at yourself to wake the fuck up, especially when Haneul angles your head up towards him, eyes staring at your lips hungrily as he dives in for a mentioned kiss.

One second he's too close and your hand is up to stop him, to push his chest and tell him that he's drunk and not thinking straight. But someone beats you to it, although it's not as gentle as you'd do it because Haneul is yanked backwards that he almost stumbles and falls but someone grabs him again and pushes him to the wall.

Jungkook's eyes are filled with fire, not the kind you had minutes ago with him, but pure anger is in them as he grabs Haneul by his collar. Jungkook is quick, too quick for your liking and you've no idea what possessed him, but he's already lifting up his fist at Haneul who tries to pry Jungkook's hands off him but he's too strong.

Yanking the back of Jungkook's button-up, you yell his name. "What the hell, Jungkook?!"

"You think you can jump at her whenever you want, huh? Is that it? Who the fuck you think you are?!"

He holds his fist in the air but doesn't punch him, not yet.

Haneul is not making it any easier for himself though, looking at Jungkook with spite in his dark and drunk eyes. "Of course, you're here too." he mumbles choked up, thanks to Jungkook's harsh grip on his collar.

Oh, so he didn't see you with him.

"You're going to get us kicked out, Jungkook, let him go!" you snap at Jungkook, yanking his button-up again as you reach for his lift first and try to put it down with your full strength.

And he does. Not right away but once he looks at you and sees the fury in your eyes, he releases him but not before he scoffs at him. Jungkook saved the day once again, but the approach he chose is not very likable to you. There are people glancing your way, despite the bad lightning and loud music, the interaction has gained attention of some people and it's just a matter of time before one of the bouncers walks up to you and kicks you out.

"He wouldn't leave you alone!" Jungkook exclaims as if you're not realizing that Haneul was getting too close to you without you giving him consent.

And that's true, you realize that you don't want to kiss Haneul. You don't want to be close to him and you wonder if you would be stupid enough to let him do that because you're horny and slightly tipsy, which you're not sure if it's true anymore because this whole interaction has pretty much sobered you up.

"So you will start punching everyone?!" you exclaim.

Jungkook looks stunned for a second, as if he can't believe you just indirectly pointed at what happened with Hoseok the other day. And then he shakes himself out of it, sighing when he realizes that you're right.

He's never been aggressive. And he has a few slip-ups (three to be exact) but that doesn't define him. One was quite understandable. Haneul, the very person who's still leaning against the wall with a glare sending Jungkook, who slut-shamed you, got punched by Jungkook. Two, was Jungkook almost punching Hoseok because his friend kept his unborn baby a secret and betrayed him in ways he never expected. And now.

Almost punching Haneul again because he threw himself at you, in hope you would probably make-out with him and maybe leave this club together.

However, you don't understand why Jungkook has suddenly gotten so physical over something that could've been dealt with more silently and less violent.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, taking a step back but doesn't leave your side as Haneul eyes him and then his eyes flicker to yours but all you can do is glare at him, reminding you that he's still here.

"You're drunk," you tell him, "Come on..." you direct your words to Jungkook this time, reaching for his hand and he does look surprised at your touch, but lets you hold his hand as you lead him away.

Not sure where you're going, you realize you're outside once the cold air hits your face but you don't pay attention to that feeling, finally taking a deep breath while you let go of Jungkook's hand and walk a few meters away from the entrance and people coming in or out.

"I'm sorry," Jungkook says again, joining you in your little spot while he stays standing next to you while you lean your back against the brick wall. "I don't know why I wanted to punch him..."

"I think you know," you tell him silently, appreciating the sounds of cars passing by and muffled music that isn't as long as it was inside. "You're sensitive and letting your frustration get the best of you."

"I didn't want you to see me like that," he admits, sighing in disappointment at himself which makes you look at him, finding him staring at the cars while you're met with the side of his profile.

His eyes sparkle at the streetlights in the nighttime, making him look even more innocent despite his massive and tall figure. Once again, he looks kind of vulnerable. Not because he feels sad over Kiko or anything else, but simply because he seems to be sorry that you had to see that.

"I just saw him cornering you--"

"I should've react, I was in a shock and I'm glad you made it there before I could've made a mistake,"

Jungkook's eyebrows twist into frown at your confession. He thought you don't feel anything for Haneul and you're past that relationship, nothing else.

"I guess I was too distracted from--"

Me and you dancing, you think but keep your mouth shut as you give Jungkook a knowing look, which you're not sure if he understands because he simply watches you.

"We had fun and then he came--he was drunk, I don't think he'd ever approach me like that if he was sober. I bumped into him earlier and he was fine, just said hi and left me alone."

"Yeah, alcohol does wonders."

Yeah, it does. You chuckle at that.

Jungkook steps closer, stopping right in front of you as he's hovering a similar way Haneul was a few minutes ago. But the difference is that Jungkook's close proximity makes you feel safe, comfortable and excited at the same time. The familiar burn in your stomach comes alive again, the little remains of alcohol in your stomach making you feel drowsy again but you know the truth is somewhere else. You can't put it on alcohol when you barely feel it in your system.

"Are you okay?" he asks, leaning down to check your face closer as you keep your mouth shut, gulping as you stare into his dark orbs that look concerned.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" you breathe out, nibbling onto your bottom lip, unaware of your self-conscious doing until Jungkook stares down at your lips. His eyes jump between your lips and eyes, checking you as you feel the sudden need to touch him.

The need to push some of his hair from his eyes, to have your fingers wrapped in them again like that time when you were dancing. Bodies close, hands on your hips and ass pressed against his groin area... fuck--

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks, tilting his head innocently as you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out of your mouth. "Do you want to head home or go back inside?"

All you know is that you don't want to go home and be left alone. You realize you want to stay with Jungkook, preferably turn back time and be back on the dance floor with him close to you. Enjoy the last minutes, even without something you've been silently craving for all of a sudden. You've no idea what's wrong with you. Is this how super horny people feel? Is this how men think with their penises? Is this how women think with their vaginas?

"Do you want to go home?"

Jungkook chuckles and looks away for a moment amusingly, and maybe a little annoyed that you can't simply answer and ask him a question back instead.

"If you're going home, then I'm going home too." he answers simply, giving you an answer which makes you nod.

"One dance and then we can go? What do you say?" you ask, anticipation in your eyes as Jungkook simply nods and motions his head towards the entrance.

"Okay, let's go... it's cold out here anyway and we should find Jimin and Tae to tell them we're leaving soon."

You almost complain, knowing Taehyung would most likely hold you hostage, so the two of you can stay longer but you stop, knowing as long as you've Jungkook with you, he'll take care of it. And Taehyung.

Jungkook leads you straight towards the dancefloor, his hand finding yours as soon as you make it inside as he holds you close to him. Somewhere in the distance you see Taehyung making out with a woman, the sight not that unfamiliar and you see Jimin chatting up close to him with another woman. If you paid more attention, maybe you'd have noticed how Jimin and the woman stare at the pair next to them amusingly – which means the two women are friends. But all of that goes unnoticed as you get them out of your sight, Jungkook's back and tattooed hand holding yours being the main attraction for your eyes.

Not even a minute on the dancefloor and you naturally find your way back to yourselves, in a similar position like before. Ignoring the way the one part of you mentally chants that yes, you might've not turned back time but this is even better, because Jungkook's hands are all over you again and so are yours, wrapped in his hair like you wanted them meanwhile the other hand holds the nape of his neck. His mouth brushes against your cheek and you shiver, whimpering how good it feels but it's not good enough.

"Jungkook," you mutter into the air but it's almost impossible for him to hear you through the music, but once you turn your head slightly to look him in the eyes, you're met with the sight of his lips again.

You tilt your head back a little, finally seeing those dark orbs that watch you attentively, hands not leaving you. Shameless and fucking brave is what you are, but it's not like you can't really control yourself (at least it seems that way) because your eyes find their way to Jungkook's lips again. Wanting to cry out of frustration, you know your body longs for something else and your rushed breaths are one of the first indicators for it.

And then you grab the back of Jungkook's hand, inching his face even closer. You wait for him to pull away or at least give you a reaction that would say this is not what he wants. You would be fucking embarassed if that happened, but maybe it would be for the better.

However, he lets you and just stares at you, almost as if he's challenging you to take the first step. Does he want this too?

Does he feel the need to kiss you just like you do?

He probably feels something because he would pull away if he didn't, you try to think rationally.

Surprisingly, you take the first step and nudge his nose with your own, bodies stopping but not inching further away from each other. It's like a huge throwback once again, this time involving all the affectionate kisses and the thing you always did, almost hesitating before you finally kissed. You wonder if Jungkook remembers it, if he knows exactly what you wish for and if he's remembered of all of those times he has done it to you.

And finally (maybe unfortunately) your lips slightly touch but it's not a kiss, they just briefly brush against each other as if both of you are testing the waters, wondering where your bodies and secret temptation will take you.

Growing annoyed and frustrated, you're ready to groan because there's something holding you back and you hate that at the moment but as always, Jungkook saves the day and with a little bit of force forward, he lets his lips meet yours for the first time in a long time.

In a time you thought would never come because you were past all of that.

Maybe this is a stupid thrilling decision but you can't bring yourself to think about it, nor curse yourself for it because oh, Jungkook's lips feel amazing and you feel like whimpering or cry out of pure satisfaction. They're soft just as you remember, maybe even softer and suddenly, it feels like nothing has changed and you're back to last year's summer. Letting yourselves to be free, not thinking about consequences and just enjoying each other's presence.

It's hard to think about everything else when Jungkook's warm lips are on your own, and it's funny how the only thing you manage to do is to take another step and start moving your lips against his own, now truly kissing him. He kisses you right back, moaning when you tug his hair and his palm spreads against your stomach, holding you close against his toned and strong chest.

You don't even care, you probably look like one of those nasty couples that make out in public. This even tops all your wet dreams you've shamefully had about Jungkook. Because the difference is that this is real.

The first swipe of his tongue sends an electrifying jolt all over your body, your thighs pressing together as you try to relieve the tension between them. Kissing until you're gasping for oxygen, the weird smell of people and sweat filling your nose almost making you puke, you peck his lips one last time before you lick your bottom lip.

"Take me home, Jungkook."

He's surprised, you can see it the way his brows shoot up a little and uncertainty framing his eyes by your simple yet shocking request, but he gives you a nod which you mentally sigh in relief. Your request is simple, yet holds various meanings that maybe you're not even sure of.

On the way out, Jungkook orders for a cab through an app and informs you that he has sent a message to Jimin and Taehyung into the group, informing them that he's taking you home. Even that simple sentence makes butterflies shoot straight into your stomach and even though you're not promising yourself more than you can carry, you enjoy the feeling as long as it lasts. You're not sure what you're particularly excited about because the moment you and Jungkook get into that cab, you're not sure what happens next.

And the uncertainty makes you nervous, but Jungkook's hand in yours and the way he unconsciously holds it tight makes it all better.

By the time you're walking out of the club hand in hand, the cab is already waiting for you and as Jungkook holds the door of the cab for you, he shoots you a soft smile that makes everything uneasy go away. It's cliché but you can't believe that it works, because all you're left is that same excitement again.

As the driver makes sure Jungkook gave him the right address, he looks at you questionably because it's not like he put his address because he expects anything from this. It's because his address was added automatically and he didn't give that much thought into it when he was trying to get you through the crowd. But you give him a sheepish grin and cuddle up to him, leaning your head against his shoulder which causes Jungkook to confirm the address.

Jungkook doesn't touch you more than it's necessarily though, his hand stays respectively on your knee and doesn't go any further, while you're gripping his biceps and can't help the stupid grin you hope he doesn't see.

The ride to Jungkook's apartment building is short but feels like a big journey because by the time the driver stops in front of it, you're ready to jump out of the car the second he slows down the vehicle. Just like when you were getting into the car, Jungkook holds the door for you and helps you get out of it, thanking the driver before he shuts the door and hurries to the warmth of the building.

Following Jungkook into his apartment seems kind of funny because you've been here so often, that you'd be able to find the way while being blindfolded. Yet, you're staying a little behind him following him as if you were clueless where he's taking you.

Once Jungkook unlocks his apartment and the doors are shut with you inside, you're already taking your shoes.

"Listen--"

You don't, you're too quick and sorry that you've cut him off which hasn't been done purposely. By the time Jungkook has tried to tell you something, you've already kissed him. Realizing what you've done, you pull away with a sheepish grin and hot cheeks.

"Hm?" you ask cutely, hands innocently behind you as Jungkook's eyes darken and he's the one who pulls you closer and kisses you.

Giggling into the kiss, you realize you can taste the slightest hint of Jungkook's drink he has drunk at the club. But oddly, he tastes like him. His cologne and the flowery smell he always holds fill your nostrils more than ever, now that you're in a place that's not filled with body odors. You're hypnotized, that's how you're feeling when you tug him towards the living room with mouth still on his.

The only time you let your mouth detach is when you push him down on the couch, happy when he successfully lands onto his butt with legs spread out. He's so hot, button-up slightly crinkled from your heavy making out and your needy hands. His hair is messy as he's looking up at you from his sitting position through hooded eyes, causing you to drop to your knees right away.

His eyes widen for a moment, but you don't stare into them long enough as you're leaning towards his lips to kiss him again. No words exchanged, your needy hands unbutton a few buttons on his shirt, exposing more skin and the chest that got definitely bigger than the last time you saw him. And he's not even fully naked. He's so much broader and you're trying hard not to literally salivate.

His hands land on your hips as you start peppering kisses to his jaw, slowly down his neck and then chest. The single touch of his hands makes you almost moan out and even though the lust clouds your mind, you're not greedy for an orgasm or him making you feel good. He's already making you feel good just by being there, holding your hips – and it's silly but you can't explain it.

You reach for his belt, unbuckling it eagerly and you're surprised how easy it's going despite your quick movements. Jungkook helps you by lifting his hips off the couch, getting the jeans past his butt but once you touch the hem of his boxers, eyes too distracted by the hard bulge already poking through the thin material, Jungkook mutters your name.

It's like he finally realizes what you're about to do, what position and situation you're both in and he looks almost nervous, despite his hooded eyes filled with lust.

"I don't want you to think you're my distraction,"

Your features soften and you get out of your lusted state for a moment, hands placed over Jungkook's knees instead.

"You're not, I would never do that to you."

It hasn't even crossed your mind that he could use you as a distraction. At least not until he has just mentioned it. If he wanted a distraction, he could've gone home with anyone else. Women have been giving him a good piece (and well deserved) attention. And why Jungkook has decided to go home with you, no matter how random and quick it happened, is beyond you.

"I know," you assure him softly, straightening yourself as you once again lean towards him and gently peck his lips. "Don't think too much about this. If you don't want this, let's just stop it."

Some tiny part of you whines at that, but you know it needs to be said and you really don't want to make any mistake. You know you'll be overplaying this in your head once it ends, no matter how it ends but just for now, you want to enjoy this. It's not like you're doing this for the first time. You already know each other. You know each other's bodies and even though it's been a while, nothing has changed much. Minus Jungkook's huge body growth.

"I do want it," Jungkook admits by mumbling, "I'm just not sure if it's right or wrong."

Well, his hard dick probably wants to argue about that but you're both trying to be adults here. Some failing and some trying to be.

"It's just a blowjob, Jeon," you chuckle, pointing out and silently telling him that it doesn't have to be anymore dramatic. "So," you start, "Do you want it or not?"

He stares at you, longer than you wish him to because it suddenly starts to make you more nervous. And fuck, Jungkook imagines you with his cock in your mouth and randomly gets a flashback of that time when you sucked him off for the first time. In the very same position and room, at the beginning of your deal as Jungkook wanted to make sure it's not something you have to do just to please him. But you were so eager, similarly to what you look like now but there's something different about you. There's a boost of confidence because you've already had him in your mouth, at least that's what he guesses, and he would be an idiot to miss out the opportunity to miss the warmth of your mouth when you're on your knees, staring at him like this.

And maybe, Jungkook's mind is clouded just like yours.

"Pull me out," he says simply, your breath hitching how soft yet dominating he sounds.

Just as you gave him the green light, he left the worry somewhere else and turned into the Jungkook that can have you squeezing your thighs and make you wet by a single demand and sentence.

And you couldn't wait for it.

Eagerly and excitedly, you hook up your fingers under the hem of his boxers just like you've done before, getting even more excited at the sight of his cock again. Boxers joining his jeans pooled around his ankles, his cock springs free and slaps against his stomach right away. The sudden moment surprises you even though you were waiting for it, but you're way more excited to not only get your eyes on it but your mouth and hands too.

Impatiently, you reach for him and wrap your hand around the hard length, you admire the hard and warm flesh. Its red head is asking for attention and the little veins peeking from its soft skin makes you lick your lips once again.

And Jungkook can control himself, he finds the most fun watching you which makes him even more hard (if that's even possible), so when you squeeze him he keeps it quiet and bites into his lip instead. It feels good but it's definitely not enough to let him fully dive into the pleasure. There's a little bit of pre-cum already pooling at the tip of his cock and he knows you see it because your eyes widen in excitement, making you look cute. He can't believe he just thought of you as cute while his cock is in your hand.

There's no time for him to chuckle at his thoughts because you're already enveloping the tip into the warmth of your mouth and fuck... he swears he can see starts because you taste him for the first time in months, the time he thought would have never come. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he's trying to process what's happening right now but it's very hard, especially when you suck him off before you dive even more and start to take more of him every time.

He lets out a pleased sigh, one hand gripped in a fist while the other finds the back of your head, keeping you in place as the sucking sounds resounds from your mouth. It's wet and you drool all over his cock which makes things even more hotter, his head falling back as his mouth stays open while he enjoys your mouth on him and you between his legs.

You're careful, always coming for air whenever you feel like gagging and the rest that you can't fit (or not pressuring yourself to make it fit), is held by your hand as you squeeze him here and there. You're changing your movements, licking him up and down before you suck him, then you're bobbing your head up and down while doing the rest with your hand. And the ultimate spot for him is when you suddenly press his cock against his stomach, licking his balls as you suck on them too. Fuck, you're too good at this. Just like he remembers.

It's like you remember every little spot he has and that's when you're starting to hear soft moans and groans leaving his opened mouth. His thighs are tense, your nails digging into the skin there. His cock barely fits into your mouth but you get creative, opening your mouth as wide as you can at the cost of you drooling all over his cock down to his balls. The button-up that's slightly hiked up unfortunately hides the little trail of hair that goes down to his pubic hair and you wonder if you'll have another chance to see it some other time. This is most likely just a one time thing but you quickly throw that thought away, not wanting to think about the future and what's going to happen.

"Fuck," Jungkook groans, the thighs tensing up and hips slightly bucking up are letting you know he's close because even his grip on your hair gets tighter. Moaning around him, you feel your jaw ache from being opened for a longer time to the point it starts to get uncomfortable, but you don't care and continue sucking him off.

The wet sounds of your mouth that has never left makes Jungkook's head spin and his eyes are pinched close, suddenly remembering what a sight he's missing. So, he raises his head and pries his eyes open just to see you. But the not clearest sight of you doesn't satisfy him enough because he's mostly met with the top of your head.

"Look at me," he demands, voice rough and strained as you obey, looking up at him through your lashes which makes him let out a hitched moan. Something, you're not sure you've ever heard from him before.

"Fuck--I'm coming," he informs you hurriedly, the other hand reaching for your jaw as he cups it. "Where do you want it?"

Obviously, you're not risking answering him verbally because you'd probably rob him from a good orgasm. Fortunately, Jungkook doesn't really wait for a verbal one as he stares at you with a clenched jaw and hooded eyes.

"Your mouth?" he asks and you hum around him, a soft and muffled 'Uhm' by his cock resounds from your mouth. "You're gonna swallow like a good girl? Like you always did?"

Fuck, pleasure shoots through your entire body at his words and you eagerly hum, sucking him harder but keeping the same pace, not wanting to ruin anything.

Jungkook holds his stare as long as his body allows him to, even as he groans and the first ropes of cum shoot out of his tip straight into your mouth. You keep just the tip in, sucking on it while swallowing every drop which makes him shut his eyes and letting himself to release until the very last drop. Some of it comes out slowly after some time but you swallow everything, peppering a last kiss to his tip before you fully pull him out of your mouth and pull away from his softening cock.

He pries his eyes open, reality hitting him and he wonders if you already regret it when he sees you already standing. But then you give him a smile, just a casual smile as if you haven't had his cock inside your mouth just a few seconds ago.

"Mind if I stay over tonight?" you ask casually, leaving him speechless as he sits there, leaned against his couch with his cock still out that glistens from your saliva.

"Yeah, sure," he manages to say.

"Great!" you call out, turning around making your way towards the bathroom but not before you go into his bedroom, pulling one of his t-shirts you know very well.

Jungkook stays there until he hears the shower door close and the water dripping down, hitting the tiles and most likely (definitely) your naked body.

[airybcby]

I'm loving this blk event and coincidentally my most listened to song was Juno by Sabrina Carpenter 😭😭

I LOVE JUNO OMG!!!

if your top song was juno by sabrina carpenter, i'd pair you with...

oliver aiku

જ⁀♡⊹｡° lock me down tonight

♡ a/n — for my spotify wrapped event! - masterlist -

♡ content — oliver aiku x fem! reader, fem! reader, pregnancy, established relationship, older aiku, younger reader, age gap! (oliver is 40ish and reader is mid 20s) but it's not explicitly mentioned, established relationship, oliver is retired

♡ synopsis — retired soccer player, oliver aiku, has been labeled a 'lady killer' since his young age. many people suspect he'll be a bachelor forever, never settling down. but that's because they don't know about you.

The cheers from the stadium replayed in Oliver’s mind as he stepped into his car. The post-game commentary had been lively—he’d spent most of the broadcast joking about Manshine City’s defensive mistakes and marveling at the precision of the winning goal. It was all second nature by now, but something about being on the sidelines made his chest ache, even after all these years.

By the time he pulled into the driveway of his home, the hum of the crowd and the sharp buzz of studio lights were far behind him. A faint glow from the living room window greeted him, along with the rhythmic sway of the porch swing in the evening breeze. He locked the car with a practiced flick of his wrist and pushed open the front door.

The scent of lavender and chamomile hit him first—your favorite candle burning low on the coffee table. You were curled up on the couch, dressed in one of his oversized sweatshirts that practically swallowed you whole. A hand rested on your growing belly as you scrolled absentmindedly on your phone, your engagement ring catching the light every time your fingers shifted.

He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching you.

“You’re home late,” you teased without looking up, sensing his presence like always.

“Blame Manshine City’s backline,” he said, kicking off his shoes and crossing the room to sit beside you. “It’s a disaster I couldn’t stop talking about.”

You chuckled, setting your phone down. “And here I thought you’d mellow out once you retired. Guess I was wrong.”

“Hey, just because I’m not on the field doesn’t mean I’ve lost my touch.” He reached out to tug playfully at the hem of the sweatshirt. “But you… you look way too comfortable.”

“Is that a complaint, Mr. ‘Unobtainable Bachelor’?” you shot back with a smirk, gesturing toward the TV where a rerun of his broadcast played. The announcers had been gossiping about his status—again—speculating why the infamous Oliver Aiku never seemed to settle down.

He groaned, grabbing the remote to switch it off. “Don’t start.”

You laughed, leaning into his side. “It’s funny, that’s all. They’re so sure they’ve got you figured out. Little do they know.”

He glanced down at you, his expression softening as he traced the curve of your cheek with his thumb. “Yeah, little do they know.”

The silence stretched comfortably between you for a moment, broken only by the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen. Then, you nudged him.

“Did you eat yet?” you asked, your tone shifting to one of quiet concern.

“Not yet.” He shrugged. “I’ll grab something in a minute. Wanted to see my girls first.”

Your hand found his, guiding it to rest over your stomach. The baby stirred slightly under his palm, and he couldn’t help but grin.

“She’s gonna kick like crazy,” you murmured. “Especially when you’re around. I think she knows it’s you.”

“She’s already got good taste,” he quipped, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Takes after her mom.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “Smooth talker.”

“Always.” He stood, stretching, and then gestured for you to stay put when you made a move to join him. “Stay. I’ll grab us something from the kitchen.”

Before you could argue, he was already heading toward the fridge, humming a tune you didn’t recognize. Watching him like this, in the quiet of your shared home, you felt a sense of calm settle over you.

Let the world believe whatever it wanted about Oliver Aiku. Let them cling to the outdated image of a man who’d never commit, who’d always be chasing the next big thrill. You knew the truth.

He wasn’t just yours on paper, marked by a ring and a child on the way. He was yours in every unguarded moment, in every joke, every touch, every time he walked through the door and looked at you like you were his whole world.

And that was all that mattered.

i couldn't figure out a good way to make smut understandable, so i made it cute, i hope you don't mind!

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[the-badger-mole]

Duty, Honor and Love

Zuko paced the room, stopping every so often to let out a string of swears and kick something. Iroh watched his nephew in equal parts concern and amusement. It was the amusement that bugged Zuko the most.

"Do you think this is funny?" he demanded, rounding on his uncle. "They are telling me I have to choose between my throne and...and...reaughhh!!!!" Zuko shouted in aggravation and kicked his desk. A long crack appeared in the side, which Iroh noted with some consternation.

"I promise, I am not laughing at your situation," Iroh said placidly. "I don't find that at all funny."

"Then why are you smirking at me?" Zuko glowered at the older man, feeling moments away from knocking the teacup out of his hand.

"After all these years, the lessons I've tried to teach you about diplomacy still haven't stuck." Iroh sighed and shook his head. "If I am amused, it's only because I'm reminded of you at a younger age, and I'm remembering those days fondly."

"Why do you always have to be so...so mellow?" Zuko threw his hands up and resumed his pacing. "Do you understand they're trying to force me to choose between my people and the one person I don't want to live without? I've had to fight for every inch of ground I've gained since I took the throne, and now the one choice that should be mine. Completely mine! They say that it's not possible? That I can't do what I want? It's my personal life. And it's not even like-"

"Not like what?" Iroh pressed. Zuko shot him a mutinous scowl, and Iroh was reminded of his nephew, ten years younger, and still not ready to hear the truth about his "honor restoring mission". It was a flicker, though, and gone almost as soon as it had come. Iroh was Zuko's best ally, and they both knew it. Zuko sighed and sank down into the chair across from his uncle.

"The role of the royal consort hasn't been more than symbolic in generations," Zuko said. "Not since well before grandfather Sozin's reign. I know I can't keep Katara from making her mark, but they don't know that. For all they know, she's planning on being like the consorts before her. Quiet, demure, unobtrusive-"

Iroh couldn't stop the peal of laughter that burst from him if he wanted to. And he most certainly did not want to. His stomach had begun to ache before he could gather himself and meet his nephew's petulant glare.

"Please forgive me, Fire Lord Zuko," he said, wiping his eyes. "It's just I think you give your council far too little credit. I doubt anyone who's spent more than half an hour with Master Katara would think that she would be a quiet and demure Fire Lady. She is not one to fade into her husband's shadow, no matter how powerful he is. And anyone who's spent more than half an hour with you would know better than to expect you would ever allow that."

Zuko groaned and let his head roll back against his chair. He knew Iroh was right. He knew his council saw how often he would defer to Katara, especially on matters she was passionate about, like education, health and foreign affairs. He loved her for himself, but he also loved her for his people. But the idiots who served on his council were too concerned with how the other nobles (who'd only just kept their titles by the skin of their teeth) would feel about her with a crown on her head than what the rest of the citizens would feel about Katara on the throne (and he knew for a fact that at least a handful of villages already considered her some sort of saint. One of them had built a statue of the Painted Lady with Katara's face). His citizens would grow to love her, he knew, regardless of what his councilors thought. And yet, they had given him this ultimatum.

"I can't abdicate," Zuko said, finally. "But I can't lose Katara, either." Iroh sat quietly for a long moment. He poured himself another cup of tea.

"Is this your way of asking for my help?" he asked. His face was serious, but mirth sparkled in his eyes. It pissed Zuko off endlessly, but he knew he had no other choice.

"Yes, Uncle," he sighed. "I'm asking you to help me find a way for me to be able to stay with Katara and not abdicate my throne. And do not even think the word concubine. Advisor Wong suggested it in front of Katara, and she nearly castrated him. And then I got an earful for not "shooting the idea down fast enough" even though I was just gathering my thoughts." Zuko shook his head at the memory with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Iroh chuckled. "I have managed to stay off of Katara's bad side, and I intend to continue that. Besides, i can't imagine a better co-ruler for you than her. No, I have something much less....complicated in mind."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Iroh had gone over his plan with Zuko several times. It had made sense in the comfort of his private office, without the weight of his council's eyes on him, but now, Zuko was less certain. Katara was not here today. She had no idea this meeting was even happening. This, Iroh had assured him, was for the best. Zuko wasn't sure that Katara would see it that way, but he figured his uncle could take the heat for it, should she be upset about it later on. Right now, Zuko was content to let Iroh take the lead here. Midway through the meeting, once the other business for the day had been discussed, Zuko gave General Iroh the floor.

"Gentlemen," Iroh said, gravely. "We have an issue to discuss." The council members, the majority of whom had a deeply rooted respect for Iroh, leaned forward anxiously. He took a heavy breath and clasped his hands together. It was all very dramatic, Zuko thought, but made no attempt to speed the proceeding along.

"A very serious issue, indeed," Iroh continued. "As you know, I have some ties with several leaders from around the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes." Acknowledgement rippled through the room. Iroh waited until everyone grew silent again to continue.

"Has something gone wrong?"

"No," Iroh said, slowly, with less finality than anyone found comforting. "Not as such. There is no immediate danger, except perhaps...financial." If Iroh had failed to get everyone's attention before, he certainly had it all now. Zuko watched his councilors closely, biting back a smirk. Iroh had said the magic word. The bait had been taken. Now he just had to reel them in.

"As you know," Iroh continued, "there are several trade agreements- things that the Fire Nation must rely on to be imported from the Earth Kingdom- like their metal goods, and building supplies. The Northern Water Tribe has been negotiating on sending us healers to help get our hospitals off the ground, and the Southern Tribe, as you know, has recently begun trading raw oil, something we need to help move our own industry along.

"And what is the issue?" a councilor demanded. "Are we not paying enough for these goods? Are we not treating the Northern healers like royalty?"

"We are," Iroh agreed. "But there have also been complaints about the exchange-" his gaze hardened and landed on a select few, "-and they have not been discreet enough for some very important people to ignore. There have been some concerns voiced that the Fire Nation is still too insular for comfort. There are those who fear that the Fire Lord is in danger of being cut off from the concerns of those who this country not only relies on, but owes a great deal to in terms of reparations."

"What would you have us do?" another councilor demanded. "Are our treaties and trade agreements not enough?" Iroh regarded the man with a placid smile.

"I begin to fear they are not," he said. "And can you blame them? After all, before Sozin began his war, the Fire Nation had had treaties and agreements with all the nations. Now, Fire Lord Zuko has proven his willingness to deal fairly with the other nations-" this set off a round of grumbling at Zuko's idea of fair, but Iroh ignored it "-but the they are still understandably skittish."

"What do you suggest then? Don't speak around the issue, tell us what your plan is!"

"I suggest," Iroh said slowly, "a closer tie than mere paper. A marriage contract with a proper match would put the rest of the world at ease about the Fire Nation's continued insularity."

"And let me guess," the room spun toward Advisor Wong, who sneered at Iroh from his seat at the opposite end of the table, "is Master Katara the right choice?" Zuko bristled at the man's mocking tone. He would've said something then- something hasty, and inflammatory that he probably would've regretted later- but Iroh stayed him with a hand on his forearm.

"I believe so, yes," Iroh said, meeting Wong with his same benign smile. "After all, she is not only Chief Hakoda's daughter, Master Pakku's granddaughter, and the Avatar's guardian, she also has the ear of King Bumi, King Kuei and is an honorary member of the Foggy Swamp Tribe's council. Not to mention how much support she's gained amongst the citizens of the Fire Nation. I'm sure you've heard about the statue in Jang Hui." The room fell silent. Iroh looked from one advisor to another. A few of them looked disgruntled, but many of them seemed to be taking their time considering Iroh's words.

"We have to think of the future," someone said. "Suppose she has no firebending heirs for our Fire Lord. What then?"

"We've had non-bending rulers," Iroh pointed out. "Some of our best, in fact, had no firebending. It's never been an official requirement for taking the throne, though it has been preferred, especially recently."

"What if all her children are waterbenders?" someone else asked boldly. "A non-bender on the throne is one thing, but a waterbender?"

Iroh had diplomacy down to an art. Zuko sat in awe of his uncle. Every argument that had come up Iroh had been prepared for. This particular concern was one that Zuko had himself brought up. After all, this hypothetical waterbending heir to the throne would be Zuko's child, too. He would die rather than see his son or daughter fight the way he'd had to for his birthright. Iroh's solution to that was... scary to say the least.

"Do you love Katara?" Iroh had asked Zuko.

"Of course, I do!" Zuko replied without hesitation. "And I already know I'll love our children whether they're firebenders or not."

"Then you'll have to accept the possibility of having all waterbenders," Iroh said. "It'll cause a stir to say the least. But you're both young. You'll have many years to figure out how to navigate that particular issue should it come up. And of course, I'll spend my remaining years helping you secure my grandchildren's futures."

"And if it comes up in this meeting?" Zuko pressed.

Iroh had a reputation for being a very wise man. And he was very wise. He was also very shrewd, and very skilled at the complicated dance steps that were required to make it in the Fire Nation's court. No one could fairly call him a liar, but he did on occasion take liberties with the truth.

"Fire is a very powerful element," Iroh said the the councilor who'd raised the question of Zuko's potential waterbending heirs. "As is water, to be sure, but the Fire Lord comes from a long line of powerful benders, and he himself is dragon-touched. The chances of none of Zuko's children being a fire bender is small."

This was a stretch. Thanks to Druk, many in the Fire Nation saw Zuko as especially blessed by Agni and the dragons themselves. There was no real way of letting his subjects know that there was nothing special about his connection to the dragons without giving away the secret of the Sun Warriors, who preferred to remain undisturbed for as long as possible. Still, Iroh's words were enough to make the council think. Zuko watched their faces carefully, and saw one by one as they considered what Iroh had said. In that moment, Zuko didn't care at all which part of Iroh's argument had made the biggest impact. All that mattered were the looks of resignation on his staunchest opponents faces. Even Wong seemed to acknowledge his defeat. After a few moments, one of the councilors asked Zuko and Iroh for some time to discuss the matter.

"Of course you will need the time," Iroh agreed. "I believe that would be wise, don't you, Fire Lord?"

"You can have the rest of the day," Zuko said. His tone was severe, and his face impassive. He declared that day's session over. As he left, he heard Iroh asking a servant to bring up the popular Earth Kingdom drink that had been all the rage in the Fire Nation for the past five years. Coffee would serve as both a reminder of why trade with the Earth Kingdom was so important, and as a stimulant so the councilors would stay up as long as they needed to come to the right conclusion.

"We've done what we can," Iroh said when he caught up to Zuko. "The rest is up to them. I'm sure it will work."

"Just in case," Zuko muttered, "I should ask Katara how she feels about eloping."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

It didn't take the council as long as Zuko feared to come to a conclusion. The request for an early meeting came to Zuko's suite as soon as he was awake, and he and Iroh reconvened with the council just after breakfast. Iroh's points had won out, and while Zuko's council didn't quite demand that he marry Katara, they had put up much less of a fight than Zuko had prepared for. They conceded to Zuko's greatest desire, and gave him their blessing to ask Katara's hand in marriage. He didn't have the heart to tell him they'd been engaged for nearly two months already.

[leth-writes]

Companion, part 2

yandere house of the dragon x reader

Summary: your first day in court.

Warnings: typical for my blog

As you walked toward the hall where you would attend court, you tried to surrepticiously ask Cassandra as many questions as possible. It was hard, trying to get her to voice her opinions; she was so nervous to so much as speak the Queen’s name, let alone truly express any opinions that reflected negatively on the nobles. However, you did manage to learn the basics; there was a current, ongoing war between two factions for the iron throne. It seemed that at the moment, the Greens held control, represented by Queen Alicent and her heir, Aegon, as well as her son Aemond and daughter Helaena. The blacks in contrast included Rhaenyra, the King’s old heir, Daemon, the king’s brother, and their children, Jace and Luke. Even without so much as seeing the noble family, you could feel the tension building in the castle. It seemed to ooze from the walls, permeating the air and creating a palpable sense of fear and anxiety. Every servant you passed seemed more anxious than the last, some even crying; you could imagine the constant fighting would effect them harder, since they were especially vulnerable.

As you walked, you started to piece together a backstory for yourself. You were the child of a lord, quite a low-down one, who already had an heir in the form of an older brother known for aggression and a lack of interest in the good of the people he claimed to represent. It seemed that you’d complained many times to Cassandra in the past; so you were inhabiting someone else’s body, it seemed, though the person you used to be did not sound to be the nicest. At least she treated Cassandra with respect, you thought.

Your mother seemed to ignore your entire existence, and none of your family had so much as written a letter to you in the many years you’d been by Helaena’s side. You could only hope they wouldn’t suddenly decide to come visit; they’d certainly immediately catch on to your new personality, and you couldn’t risk being suspicious.

Finally, you reached the oak doors that separated you from Helaena’s circle. Cassandra opened the doors and entered in, you following slowly after her, and she announced your presence. The room was imperious, dark and lacking warmth. Both the floors and walls were stone, intricate carvings of dragons lining the walls, with very few windows letting in the midmorning grey light. Candles lined the tables and walls, bathing the room in the flickering warm glow of their fire, though even that seemed to be smothered by the oppressive atmosphere in the room. 4 women sat in chairs in a loose circle, each seemingly working on a sewing project or needlepoint. This, it seemed, was Helaena’s court.

Cassandra nudged you, then went to join the other servants lining the walls. it seemed you had at least one ally. Finally, you reached the small empty stool, joining the group.

“How nice of you to join us, finally,” one woman said. She was tall, willowy even, with dark black hair pooling around her shoulders, pale skin standing in stark contrast to the green she wore. Her dress was opulent, dripping in gold accents, and her arms were coated in liberal amounts of jewelry. She was working on a needlepoint project, clearly the most advanced of the group. She had deep, cruel brown eyes and a nasty smirk, her little button nose accented by a slight smattering of freckles. 2 of the other women tittered. The third, a slight woman with long white hair, barely glanced up, seeming irritated at the interruption. She had small eyes, catlike and graceful, and a roman nose, her small mouth turned down into a small frown. She was beautiful, though unique, a classic beauty. Her dress was a dull olive, covered with a second layer of sheer black swirling dragon designs.

“Dyana,” she chided. The woman in the green dress, Dyana, looked down, seemingly chastised. “Yes, lady Helaena,” she replied. So the woman in the dragon dress was the noble you were to be attending. You nodded gratefully at her, and she nodded back. You picked up a plain needlepoint canvas, ready to begin. Luckily, you’d always enjoyed sewing, so you didn’t struggle too much.

As you worked in silence, you tuned in to Dyana’s conversation with the other two women. The first was short and chubby, with a circle face and beautiful doe eyes. Her skin was a deep brown, complementing her hair, which was pulled back, well. She wore a deep red dress, accentuating her figure perfectly. She seemed to be the nicer out of the two remaining women. From the conversation, you gathered her name was Clarysse. The second was the tallest, though not as thin as Dyana. She had beady green eyes, seeming to bore into the side of your head with anger, despite you not so much as commenting on their discussion of the latest gossip among the lords. her other features were average, and she wore a deep blue dress, simpler than the other women but still fancier than yours, with light silver accents and swirling wave patterns. Her name was Catlina.

“I have heard that Lord Cannion’s daughter is to be married this fall,” Dyana began, smirking. The other girls, excepting Helaena, gasped.

“So soon after her last engagement was broken?” Catlina gasped, chuckling quietly. You weren’t sure how this was such big news, but then again you still didn’t really understand the court gossip being spread. Helaena seemed largely uninterested as well.

“Ah, but the engagement only broke because her fiance was unfaithful, no?” Clarysse responded, looking down sheepishly. She seemed the quieter out of the three, largely unwilling to engage in the cruel gosip both Dyana and Catlina were engaging in.

“Yes, but it’s no wonder… She was to be a terrible bride and an even worse mother,” Catlina chortled, hiding her mouth behind her thin hand.

“She has such a short temper, it’s no wonder…” Dyana added on, smiling.

“Did you hear that Lady and Lord Voss have given birth to a child?” Clarysse changed the subject, looking uncomfortable. You felt bad for her, understanding her discomfort with the chatter.

“Ah yes, the lady Voss has named her daughter Breyna… One wonders if perhaps Lord Brey played a role in the matter?”

Wow, they were unable to so much as be happy for the woman, despite her just having a daughter! You could see that Clarysse seemed to share your feelings.

“Clarysse, how have you been?” You asked.

Dyana’s head shot up and her face morphed into a harsh scowl. “Are you not forgetting something, girl?” You felt the room chill.

“Lady Dyana, please, it is no bother!” Clarysse begged, holding her hands up placantingly.

“Lady Clarysse, you are too kind, but they must address you with the proper title… They have been attending court for years,” Catlina replied, a sharp smirk on her face. Helaena was watching the entirety of the interaction, seeming more interested in the conversation. Her eyes flicked to yours, and you could sense the kindness in them.

“I apologize, Lady Clarysse, I am overtired and did not mean to insult you,” you said, bowing your head slightly. You didn’t really understand what you had done wrong, but you were smart enough to know that it would be a bad idea to get on their bad side.

Clarysse acknowledged your apology, though Dyana looked to Helaena. “Lady Helaena, do you accept the apology?” she asked, tone clear she was expecting you to be kicked out.

“Yes, it was an honest mistake. The rats have yet to bite,” she replied, gazing off into the distance. You couldn’t help but be confused by the comment, but judging by the expressions on the other girls’ faces, you weren’t alone.

Shaking off the confusion, Clarysse answered your question, updating you on her family; it seemed her brother had just completed training to enter the next jousting tournament, and she was excited to see him compete.

As the conversation continued, you caught Helaena glancing at you more often. She had a pensive look on her face, seeming quite contemplative.

Finally, it seemed as though visiting hour was coming to a wrap, the other girls slowly packing up their projects and filtering out. As you finished your piece and put it down, the last to leave, Helaena called out to you. Confused, you turned to face her.

“My lady?” You asked.

“I apologize for Dyana and Catlina’s actions today, they were quite harsh. It is hard, to be a dreamer among those whose eyes are closed…” She continued, ignoring your question.

You couldn’t quite get a read on Helaena. Her words were usually quite confusing, almost as if she was talking to someone else rather than you. You weren’t sure how to interpret the things she said.

“I’m sorry, my lady, but I don’t quite understand…” You responded.

“It’s alright, most do not. I am glad to see you here, though I sense you are different than the last time I saw you. I do not expect you to understand yet, though I hope we can grow close and begin to connect. Would you like to take a walk with me?”

Well, if the future Queen was asking, you couldn’t say no. You turned to Cassandra, who was already out the door, ready to inform Lady Worner.

The two of you went to walk through the gardens.

The gardens were beautiful, teeming with life, though lacking in color; it seemed not even the garden could escape the suffocating tension.

“You are not yet betrothed, correct?” Helaena asked gently, glancing at you from the corner of her eye.

“No, my lady, I’m not. Though, I believe my father is working to arrange one.”

She hummed, looking concentrated. You wondered what was going through her head.

“Well, I believe your luck shall soon turn. I see the fire blazing.” She continued, almost as though she was talking to herself rather than you.

“My lady?” you questioned, hoping she would elaborate. She did not.

The two of you continued on in silence.

“Helaena?” Aegon asked, shocked to see his wife up and about so late at night. She was sitting by the lone window in her room, gazing out at the moon. “The little bird’s chirps are so quiet under the roar of the fire,” she answered.

“What do you mean?”

“I believe I have found Aemond a wife,” she responded.

“Who?” He asked, moving closer toward his wife. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, a rare gesture of kindness.

“The little bird in my court, there is something different about her,” Helaena said, turning to look up at where Aegon stood behind her.

“Ah. Of course. Well, we shall introduce her to mother, and see what her verdict is. Then, it will be up to Aemond.”

“We shall need to persuade mother. I see this being a bond to strengthen our family greatly.” With that, the conversation was done.

[lesbian-for-arthur-morgan]

Middle Class Lady Who has the Gang Sneak in Her Window

"The gang falling for a woman of a higher class and a father that doesn't approve of them so they usually sneak through their window to be together" @livingdeadgirly​

Genre: Fluff - some angst if you squint (Fem Reader uses she/her pronouns) Featuring: Arthur, John, Dutch, Javier, Charles, Sean, and Sadie Warnings: Mentions of guns, outlaw type of stuff

AN: I'm so sorry these took me forever to write! if some of them seem a little out of character please ignore it and pretend they aren't :D ---> Requests are open! Check out my guidelines if you have any questions

<><><><>

Arthur Morgan:

Your father owned his own saloon which gave him an incredible insight into the type of men who frequented his establishment. He thought of this as a blessing once you started growing older and wishing to be courted, he could keep an ear out for anyone that he deemed unworthy for you.

Unsurprisingly, anyone who frequented the bar was not someone your father wanted anywhere near you. Especially when it came to an outlaw by the name of Arthur Morgan. The two of them had a long-standing feud (actually it was your father who hated Arthur and Arthur was too busy being infatuated with you to notice).

The first time Arthur was seen speaking to you in front of the saloon, your father came barreling through the doors to usher you inside. He instructed you to never speak to him again. Of course you didn’t listen.

Months go by and Arthur has made an extreme effort to get as close to you as he can without your father’s knowledge. The two of you will just so happen to go to the same general store at the same time every Friday by ‘accident’, you just so happen to run into him when you take your horse for a little trail ride to exercise, and every once in a while you both somehow end up behind the theater at on show nights by some strange chance of fate.

After a while, you’re so sick of having to keep your interactions short and sweet and secret in the public eye (lest anyone witness it and run off to tattle to your father). You write a quick letter to Arthur one day asking him to meet you at the side of your house at midnight.

When he gets there and you’re nowhere to be found he’s beyond confused; it’s not until he hears a sharp whistle and looks up to see you waving at him from your second story window that he understands your plan.

“The things I do for you, woman.” He grumbles with a smile and begins hoisting himself up the tree conveniently located right by the window.

You’ve already got the window open as he reaches the top and you begin helping him crawl inside. Now Arthur is a large, bulky man he isn’t exactly as nimble as he might have been once upon a time. You can barely contain your giggles as he lumbers into the room ungracefully and nearly face-plants into the rug on your floor.

“I ain’t had to do this since I was a boy,” He smiles down at you once he steadies himself as you grin up at him widely.

“You’re still young enough to climb through a lady’s window yet, Mr. Morgan.” You tease.

It’s the first time the two of you have ever truly been alone since you met and the tension in the air is palpable. Arthur looks between you and your carefully cleaned and decorated bedroom, then down at his dirty boots on your rug and worn denim pants. He was the complete opposite of you - he didn’t deserve to ruin your space with his grimy life and clothes.

“What you thinking about, Cowboy?” You place a hand on his cheek and turn his head to make him look back at you. He’d confess a few of his doubts, not trusting himself to tell you that he doesn’t deserve you flatout, and you’d shake your head and lead him over to your bed and have him sit down.

You’d kiss him and quiet his thoughts, allowing your actions to say more than words ever could and from that moment on he’d find himself climbing up a tree every other night.

Your father didn’t figure it out ever, even though Arthur and you were hardly ever quiet.

John Marston:

You were the most beautiful person that John had ever seen in his entire life. You were walking in the middle of town with some man nearly twice your age and John figured you were married to him - some lady victim to a man with money and a ring.

John fantasized about swooping you into his arms and saving you from a life of excruciating monotony. He’d tell the old man to kick the bucket, maybe rob him of whatever cash and valuables he had on him, and let you live your life free with him.

When he overheard you refer to the man as your father John felt absolutely giddy. He took his hat off and tried to smooth his hair down as he moved to approach you and introduce himself.

Your father watched the outlaw walk up to the two of you with a skeptical eye. He was hoping the cowboy would walk past you, but he stopped right before you and held out his hand to you. “John Marston, Miss….?” He prompted.

Your father shut it down immediately. He was so incredibly unamused that he stepped between you and John and shoved his arm down. He told John to basically get lost, but John ignored him and kept his eyes on you.

It was like love at first sight.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his and couldn’t hide the growing blush that heated your cheeks as he ever-so-slightly smiled at you. A small smile that disappeared as your father demanded his attention.

“Now son you get out of here before I get angry. I don’t want you anywhere near my daughter, you got that?”

John wanted to laugh at his vague threat. Who did this guy think he was? John put both hands up to show he meant no harm and took a few steps back.

“Didn’t mean nothing by it, sir,” He shrugged, “Was just being friendly.”

Your father scoffed saying he didn’t want any of John’s kindness and neither would you. You caught John’s eye while your father was speaking and mouthed ‘sorry’ with a sweet smile.

John was smitten immediately. He may seem like a big tough outlaw, but the guy is secretly a huge soft romantic. He was already envisioning your wedding and the type of house you two would build together in the middle of the prairie where no one would bother you and you could leave your respective lives.

He may have been getting ahead of himself.

Your father dragged you away and into the general store, John went off to finish a few more errands. He didn’t think he’d actually ever see you again until the moment he went back to his horse to ride back to camp.

He felt a quick tap on his shoulder and there you were looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

From that moment on the two of you had to meet in secret - away from the watchful eye of your father. John took to sneaking in your bedroom anytime he got the inclination to see you (which was a daily occurrence tbh).

He’d take a stroll around the house to make sure your father’s room lights were off and see if yours were on and you were still awake. Due to his frequent visits, you were always up late waiting for him to call on you.

It was all fun and games until he’s waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to climb back out of your window before your father woke up to find him lounging in your bed. That would be a messy scene.

Dutch Van Der Linde:

Dutch thought he was too old to have to worry about meeting parents and getting the approval to see the lady he fancied. He was an old dog; he liked younger women of course but never the type who were of a higher social standing than him and needed that.

Then he met you.

You swooped into his life with your pretty dresses and sweet words and you didn’t want him at all at first. It made him want you even more.

It’s no secret that rich men are corrupt and willing to meet with anyone to make a quick buck. Your father met with Dutch to provide some intel about a train full of valuables and treasures that were interesting to both parties involved. Your dad wanted a cut of what was on that train provided the Van Der Linde gang robbed it.

Your father wasn’t a good man. He enjoyed money a little too much, and saw you as property more than his daughter. He was overprotective of you - to the point that he refused to ever let you out of his sight for even a second.

You went to every meeting between the two men and at first didn’t give a damn about Dutch. You thought he was handsome, but not the type of man you’d ever be interested in. Not until your father warned you to stay away from men like that.

He even went so far as to comment that he didn’t like the way Dutch looked at you. It fueled something inside of you. The idea of rebelling in such a way. Dutch was attractive, he had money, an exciting life, and most of all it would piss your father off if you courted the gang leader.

The next time there was a meeting between the three of you, you bat your eyelashes and laughed at Dutch’s jokes a little too hard.

Dutch bid you farewell by kissing the knuckles on your hand, and you loved the way your father basically had smoke coming out his ears at the action.

Your father didn’t bring you with him the next time he went to a meeting with Dutch. He locked you in your room, and only unlocked the door to check on you before bed that night.

You were pouting and writing a long sob-story in your diary when you heard a soft tap on the glass of your window.

You pulled back your blinds to see Dutch crouching in the dirt by your window with a wicked grin on his face.

“Can I come in, Darlin’?” He cooed with a sweet voice. You opened your window immediately and he ducked through the frame.

“You didn’t come with your father today, he said you didn’t want to attend the meetings anymore.”

You explain that you’ve basically been kept a prisoner in your room all day since your dad was convinced Dutch was trying to steal you away from him. You grumble out a few curse words after you explain and roll your eyes.

“What if I am tryin’ to steal you away?” Dutch whispered, his eyes dark and sparkling in the lamp light. You didn’t realize how pretty he was.

You bite your lip and smile, trying to keep on a tough act at his words. It’s no use, though. He’s charming, it’s why he is who he is.

“Maybe I’d let you,” You reply in a sultry low tone.

That’s all Dutch needed to hear. He helped you pack a small bag of items to bring with you and he brought you back to the camp where the gang was staying.

On your bed, you left a note telling your father you were running off with a man. Shortly after that Dutch mailed out a post saying he didn’t want to do business with your father anymore. It was all settled.

He stole you away to join him at camp, and that’s where you stayed.

Javier Escuella:

You met Javier by chance one night when you were being harassed by a local lawman after a night out at the theater. Javier rushed to the alley when he heard your shouts ordering the man to stay away from you.

Javier saw red and let his instincts take over him. He grabbed the man by the collar of his very nice shirt and used it to throw him to the mud.

“The lady asked you nicely to leave her alone. Now, I won’t be so nice if I have to ask. So, tell me, do I have to be the one to request you leave her alone?”

The man scrambled in the mud, splattering it on his dress pants and coat, as he picked himself up and ran away.

Javier introduced himself and offered to walk you home. You were a little wary of him at first, what with the guns at his belt and the knife at his thigh, but he assured you that he was not a threat. He just didn’t want you risking getting harassed again on your journey to your house.

You took him up on his offer and as he dropped you off at your front door you gave him a quick, shy peck on the cheek and asked if he wouldn’t mind coming to visit again in the future.

Javier is a blushing bumbling mess but somehow finds the words to agree and see you again later on in the week.

From that point on, this man spoils you in every possible way. He brings you flowers, fine pelts, jewelry (don’t ask where he got it), and little poems he writes or likes just so that you have a little piece of his heart.

Does your father care about all of that? No. He just cares about Javier’s status as an outlaw, a killer. He’s heard the rumors about the Van Der Linde Gang and he refuses to allow one of the members anywhere near you.

Javier is willing to do anything to see you, though.

You started leaving your windows perched open during the warm summer nights, and a low whistle alerted you to a person sitting right outside the glass. Your curtains were fluttering slightly with the wind and so all you saw was the shadow of a figure causing your mind to think of the worst scenarios possible.

You drew a knife from your vanity and clasped it in your hand ready to call for your father, but you heard a familiar voice lowly call out.

“Mi amor?”

You let out a sigh of relief and pulled the curtains back fully to see Javier smiling at you with a bouquet of wild flowers in his hands. “I wanted to see you and I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You asked him to wait outside while you barricaded your bedroom door with a stool, then opened the window wider for him to duck inside.

At first he didn’t really know what to do with himself, he planned to give you the flowers and have a quick kiss before needing to leave -  he did not expect you to usher him inside.

You took the flowers from his hands and placed them on your dresser next to the box of trinkets and gifts Javier has given you before.

You sit on your bed and make a spot for him to sit beside you. He isn’t really sure what the gentlemanly thing to do is in that situation, but just to be safe he sits on the floor by your feet. He’s gazing up at you as if you were the moon itself and doesn’t even try to hide the way his breathing quickens every time your eyes meet.

It becomes routine for him to visit you nearly every night and wait for you to barricade your door before allowing him in. Eventually he gets more comfortable and feels better about sitting next to you on your bed - though he knows it was not the proper thing to do.

He really wanted to court you the proper way, but with your father being so hesitant to know him outside of his status he had to be a little lenient on conventional courting methods.

Charles Smith:

Charles has been sneaking into your room for years.

You were childhood sweethearts, but your father had hated the relationship from the moment you expressed any sort of soft feelings for the boy.

When he first started sneaking in, it was just because your father didn’t want you to be friends. You and Charles were inseparable, so he’d sneak in when he could to read your books and play with your toys while your father was at work.

As you grew older, your feelings grew too.

You developed a strong crush on Charles and he was completely oblivious to it. At first, since you didn’t know how to express your feelings, you pushed him away and told him to stop visiting you.

Charles was crushed when you essentially told him to get lost. He couldn’t understand what caused your change of heart - he figured maybe your father had finally gotten to you and you realized you were too rich, too pretty to be his friend.

Charles stopped climbing through your bedroom windows and started only seeing you in public spaces or whenever you took your horse out for a ride.

Eventually, though, even those interactions dwindled and Charles stopped seeing you altogether.

It broke you when you didn’t speak with Charles anymore. You thought it better that way. He couldn’t find out your feelings for him - especially since you were certain he didn’t feel the same way.

Years go by, you stop seeing Charles even in fleeting moments. You heard he ran off and was living alone in the wilderness.

It was your fault, you thought. You pushed him away during his time of need and now there was no way of knowing what became of him. Whether he was alive or dead.

You grow older, your heart growing cold and calloused, and you never really recovered from the hurt you put yourself through.

One night, you’re a passenger on a train taking you deeper into the west of America when there was a loud commotion at one end of the passenger car you were in.

You put down your novel and see a group of masked men with weapons demanding valuables from every patron they pass by. They were slowly moving down the aisle, approaching where you were sitting at an alarmingly fast pace. You couldn’t think of a way out of the situation without giving away every last bit of money you had on you.

That is, until one of the masked men gets to you and instead of the harsh demands and pointed threats you expected to hear, you hear your name being whispered softly.

You look up, skin ablaze with fear and eyes watering. Through your tears you can see a familiar set of dark brown eyes peering down at you as if you were a ghost.

“Ch…Charles?” You squint. You questioned if it was just a mirage, a trick of your brain due to fear, but there was no doubting it. Those were Charles’ eyes.

He softly grabbed you by the arm and helped you out of your seat.

“Come with me,” He whispered as he pushed you through the aisle towards the exit. “I promise nothing will happen to you.”

It was stupid, but you blindly agreed as he led you out of the train and onto the dusty earth.

Charles and you caught up as the rest of his posse finished robbing the passengers of the train. You learned that he had been taken in by the Van Der Linde gang and was making a living as an outlaw. After seeing what you did on the train, that part of his story checked out.

You caught up with him as well, you informed him of your father’s fate and how his will left everything to you. How you regretted pushing him away as a teenager and how you wished he could forgive you.

“I never even hated you for it,” He said softly, “There is nothing to forgive, it’s how the world is sometimes. Cruel.”

You tried to explain your feelings at the time, but the embarrassment of it never let you fully explain.

Charles offered to take you home, but you wanted nothing more than to continue catching up with him and learning about his new life, his new family. Charles took you back to camp, and you ended up staying there with him for a few weeks. (For a fee of course, as Dutch had so cleverly thought up)

Your feelings for Charles rose to the surface once again, and you weren’t sure when or if there would ever be a time to explain how madly in love with him you were.

Sean MacGuire:

The first time y’all met was when he was sneaking through your window late one night.

Dutch had given Sean a vague plan about robbing a local lawmaker’s house while the man was scheduled to be two towns over for some political business. Dutch figured it would be a quiet, simple mission to grab some extra loot and not worry about being caught.

Sean paced around your house a few times after midnight the day your father left, and when he didn’t see any lights on or movements he figured it was safe to go in.

He checked a few key points of entry, but the windows on the ground-floor were locked and he didn’t want to risk leaving any evidence of there being a break-in for when the lawmaker came back.

Sean noticed that a window on the second floor was open the tiniest sliver, he’d be able to use a dagger to wedge it open wide enough to slip his hand in and open it fully.

He climbed up some vines growing on the side of the wood paneling and pulled his dagger to wedge it open. Once he got himself inside, he turned towards the window to close it.

His entire body stiffened when he heard the metallic click of a pistol being cocked from behind him.

“Now I’ll only say this one time, Mister, you need to get outta here before I blow a hole in you and make a mess all over these clean floors.” The threat was serious, Sean knew that, but he couldn’t help but perk up at the sweet sound of your voice as you told him you were going to shoot him if he didn’t leave.

He put his hands up, dropping the dagger he had, and turned to face you slowly. The house was dark. Shadows danced across your face and shielded your eyes making you look lethal with the gun pointed at his chest. Sean thought you were beautiful.

“I mean no harm, Miss. Just business ‘s all,” Sean gave you a toothy smile which only made you narrow your eyes.

You told him you were going to give him one chance to leave and he’d only stay if he had a death wish.

Sean wanted nothing more than to stay with you and use whatever methods he could to woo you, but he was familiar with the look in your eyes and the tone of your voice. He was scheduled to meet the gods above if he didn’t slip back out that window and into the night.

After he left, he was already planning the ways he could meet you again - under more favorable circumstances of course. He decided to visit you the next day with a peace offering and a smile.

Once dawn broke over the horizon, painting the world in a golden orange light, Sean was already up and out of camp heading to your large house on the hill.

He knocked on the door and you answered after a few minutes. Your hair was messy from sleep and your nightgown was covered by a long robe that was hastily thrown on to save your modesty.

“What the hell?” You grumbled and looked at Sean as if he had grown three heads. “Either you are the stupidest man on the planet for comin’ back here, or you truly do have a death wish. If it’s the latter give me a second to grab the gun.”

Sean was in love immediately.

“I wanted to apologize for last night. I never woulda thought ‘bout stealing from a man with such a pretty woman living under his roof.” He handed you a small box saying that it was a piece offering. Inside was a large silver coin and a note that said ‘thanks for not shooting me’.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, but pocketed the coin and note nonetheless. You invited him in, but warned him any funny business would not end favorably for him. He only shot you a coy smile and promised that he was only coming as a gentleman, not an outlaw.

The two of you grew as friends at first but once things seemed to grow more romantic, you had to start sneaking around and avoiding your father finding out about the relationship and how it started.

Sean was glad he got the practice sneaking in your window that first night, though, because it was common practice while the two of you had to keep your romantic relations a secret.

Sadie Adler:

Sadie was a shell of herself when you met her.

She was still mourning the loss of her husband and trying to become accustomed to her new life as a member of the Van Der Linde Gang when you stumbled into her one day.

She was just starting to get back on her feet and was at the tailors in town when you strolled in with your fancy clothes and styled hair.

She wasn’t intimidated per say, but she felt a little inadequate in comparison. What with her ragged hand-me-downs from Miss Grimshaw and her few coins that she saved to buy a new linen shirt - you were like royalty compared to her.

You approached her first at the tailors. You asked if she had been in town long as you didn’t recognize her, where she came from, where her husband was (assuming she was married). Sadie didn’t know how to answer all the questions you threw in her direction.

You broke down her walls, though. You bought the shirt that she wanted and even invited her to tea with you at your house to talk about what had been plaguing her the last few weeks.

She didn’t want it to help, but Sadie could physically feel the relief flood her chest as she stopped holding on to her emotions and let them flow freely. A friendship between the two of you grew quickly and rapidly.

Then, it grew to be a little more.

Sadie had been working on jobs with Arthur and gaining her confidence back. In doing so, she finally got the nerve to kiss you goodbye one night when she was getting ready to go back to camp.

She gazed at you nervously after she did it. She couldn’t figure out what your expression meant - whether she went too far, or if you even liked her back in that way.

Tears slipped from your eyes as you looked up at her and grabbed her cheeks, shoving your lips against hers. Her kiss was sweet and gentle, but yours was aggressive and needy. You didn’t realize she felt the same way about you, and knowing that she did created a swell in your heart that never went away.

After your first kiss, you had to keep your relationship on the downlow. Your father knew that the two of you were friends (he hardly liked even that), if he found out that y’all were girlfriends he would separate you for good.

Sadie came up with the plan to visit you during the day as a good honest lady of society, but at night she would climb up through your window to enjoy spending time with you as a partner instead.

Friend by day, girlfriend by night.

Sadie slipped through your window every other night, quieter than a shadow when she came in. Sometimes you’d turn around and she would just be getting in and it would make you squeak a little as it startled you.

She kissed you to keep you quiet when that happened, though (teehee)

Sadie would spend hours with you at night. You’d help her brush her hair when there were missions she was on that took days and she wasn’t able to care for her locks. You’d let her borrow your nightgowns if she ever wanted to stay and relax in your bed until dawn.

The two of you would hold each other and talk until the mourning doves sang their melancholy songs in the early hours of the morning.

<><><><>

[writing-appreciation]

Vassago Headcannons because because I am feral for Vassago content

To start, I want to say I believe Stolas, Vass, and Stella are all the same age.

Andre is a couple years older than Stella.

In my mind, hell's aristocracy has like an annual/semi-annual/semi-centeninal event in which children who are coming of age are formally presented into society.

Maybe they get their full powers, maybe they are presented to Lucifer and Lilith. Maybe they are arranged to marry.

But one thing is always the same, two Demons are always chosen, one male and one female.

These two are basically hells it Demons of the event.

Maybe they even get titles in their own right instead of having their parent's title(s).

It's not expected for these two Demons to be married, but some cases to lead to happy marriages.

Or marriages of convenience. Which is where Vassago comes in.

While he isn't named the male demon at this event, he is an only child, a prince by birth right, he's already considered quite the catch in every social circle.

So of course many many many nobles, varying in ranks, are trying to see if the young, newly of age, Prince is looking for a princess.

From a young age, his parents promised him that the choice of marriage is entirely up to him. Any demon he meets and becomes enamored with. The only thing they ask is that, eventually, an heir is brought into the family.

Of course, only a very select few know he actually prefers the company of men.

Which does complicate the whole heir thing.

Enter his best friend. She's also a Goetia, dashingly charming, intellectual, kind, and even beautiful.

She's the oldest child of some terribly distant arranged marriage. Great family. Just not the most social hell family.

Her father is a Duke. So she is only a Lady, but that does change at this event.

She was crowned the demoness of the event. With this comes a title of her own, legions to command, a palace, so much more.

She is shot to the top of the social scene.

Much to Stella's horror, as she was always predicted to be crowned at this event. Even as a hatchling.

"Hey, you needed a break from inside too, Princressa Nueva?" He jokes.

" Vass, there's has to be some type of mistake. I do not belong on the forefront of society. Do you think I can kindly reject it??"

"Hah, I'm sorry Vivi (his nickname for her), I don't think that's an option. Though, it might make Stella happy."

They laugh together on the balcony, wine, beginning to cloud their judgement.

"I'm scared. I don't want to be a Princess. I especially don't want to be forced to marry some power hungry SOB who will try to tell me how things should be done. I saw my parents talking to Andrealphus and his parents. I would rather throw myself into the streets of Greed than marry that pretentious prick." She will grumpily throw herself to the bench.

A metaphorical light bulb goes off in Vassago's head.

"Marry me then."

He can't tell if it's the wine, or the excitement of an answer to his own problem that makes him say those three words.

She looks up at the friend she's known her whole life, confused, a little mad, but mostly intrigued. "Do you want to explain orr??"

"Well, I'm a Prince already. I'm not a power hungry SOB to worry about. I'm also currently dodging marriage proposals since coming of age. Y, puedo cocinar tus comidas favoritas. (And I can cook your favorite foods)."

She continues to look at him, conflicted. He is the best possible circumstance. He's always been nice to her and her family.

"We're going to be obligated to convince an heir at some point. I don't want you to have to do something you don't want to do." She quietly says.

He looks away. He has always found himself attracted to men. She was actually the first friend he told about this. She was compassionate, heard him out. They would compare crushes they had. This bonded them closer.

And he would be lying if he said he hadn't considered the possibility before. If there was any woman he could think about being married to, it would be her.

"One heir is all we need. After that, I'm sure we could come up with some type of mutually beneficial agreement, no?" He now sits next to her on the bench.

The rest was history. They got married the following year, and within the same year, they welcomed their son into hell. The same year Octavia was.

From there, they were able to come to their agreement:

At least 4 weekly family dinners, though they did often eat together more.

Monthly dinners with both his and hers parents to make sure everything looked normal.

They had to attend one monthly public royal affair. Could be any of them, but they must be seen in public together.

Secrecy is key. Tell nobody about the other one's adventures.

Vassago can bring his partners home anytime.

She can bring her partners home anytime.

If either she or he had an issue, or a gut feeling about the other's choice in partner, the partner was asked to leave. No questions. They trusted each other.

Their staff was hand selected to uphold their very strict discretion.

In regards to their son, they are equals. Not one parent has more say than the other.

If either of them want out of this agreement, it ends. No hard feelings.

[testrella]

you're my religion priest! s. geto x f!reader pt.1→pt.2

synopsis: y/n moved into a small and tight knit town to take care of her elderly grandmother. what happens when she attends a sermon with her grandmother, and finds herself lusting over someone she cannot have.

fandom: jujutsu kaisen ⌗ priest suguru geto x female reader⌗ modern au content warnings: mild cursing, smut, head (giving), religious themes(?), slight degrading at the end, angst(?) public sex, NSFW.

author's note: over 11k words, u guys have fun

“..in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit. amen.”

father geto finishes off the sermon with the routine prayer. he takes the opportunity being on stage to scan the loyal audience. it was the regular, older people he preaches to. the same people who boast about him being so devoted to God at such a young age. how that when they were his age, they were off sinning. he thinks about the constant praises about being a young devoted follower, but it immediately stops when he sees her. 

a young lady, who seemed to be around the same age as him, sitting in the very back with an elderly woman. even though she was dressed as modestly as possible, the black floor length dress immersed your body in all the right places.

when did he allow his immoral thoughts come to mind

 “oh father! you must meet mrs. johnson’s granddaughter- maybe you can convince her to turn to God.” an elder of the church whispered to the priest. she gently pulled him to the side, off of the stage. 

“as you must have heard by now, edith’s grandbaby is out of control. rumor has it that she’s been caught using multiple different contraband, and premarital sex! can you believe edith would allow this to go on for so long?!”

geto mentally sighs, gossiping was always an issue at church. especially since it was located in a very small town, there wasn't much to talk about. when you were new to town, the locals went wild. fabricating very detail of your life, and spouting that nonsense through their teeth.

“with respect dear mary, the scripture speaks strongly against gossip. i’ll talk to the young lady, but please watch yourself. for there is no greater sin than sin.”

she nods while looking down, unable to meet geto’s gaze. too embarrassed to voice her concern furthermore, she mutters “yes father, please forgive me.”

“i am not the one you should be asking for forgiveness, ask the man above. now if you’ll excuse me, i’ll introduce myself to the newest member of our church.” he smiles gracefully before making his way towards mrs. johnson and her ‘scandalous’ granddaughter. 

he takes small steps towards you, puffing his chest out as he walks with a sense of pride. sure you were a pretty girl, but he was only interested to guide you through your religious journey. 

“father geto, i introduce you to my granddaughter. this is y/n. she’s only 20, and she recently moved into town to take care of me. isn’t she the kindest?”

he loses his train of thought. he's unable to bring himself to utter a single word. you were much more gorgeous up-close. if he were to describe your beauty, he’d be too overwhelmed, and wouldn’t know where to start. maybe he’d start with the way your nose fits your face perfectly. or, how your smile molded perfectly with your faint smile lines. 

geto snaps out of his trance, and quickly introduces himself. 

“i’m father geto. welcome to this church, i hope your stay has been great so far.” he purred. 

you squint your eyes at him. almost as if you already knew the rumors going around. nonetheless, you shake his hand. 

“like my grandma said, i’m y/n. i do hope we cross paths alone in the future.”

he blushes from the way you shaked his hand, but also put your other hand on his. solidifying the handshake more than it needed too. not only that, the last comment you made. crossing paths.. alone?

“my confessional booth is always open before my sermon, and at 9 PM on sundays. if that’s what you mean of course.” 

you puff your chest out and let out a dramatic sigh. taking in your arms, and letting them rest to your side, you open your mouth to speak. he stares at your lips, refusing to make eye contact.

“the sermon did end, i guess i’ll have to see you later tonight.” you assured him before walking over to your grandmother who made conversation with someone else. he watched you walk away, allowing himself to sneak a peek from behind. 

later that day, geto was having lunch. he finds himself unable to focus on his best friend's story, the words going in one ear and out the other. all the plays in his mind is you, and what you could possibly up to.

“satoru, i think i was seduced today after my sermon.” he spilled out, no longer able to contain his thoughts. 

“gross! how old was she? 50? 69? HA, get it? 69?” 

geto rolls his eyes at the blue eyed ‘man’ who acted immaturely any chance he got. maybe he really should have kept his thoughts to himself. it was better than trying to converse it with an actual man-child.

“goodness satoru, no. she was a few years younger than me. 4 years to be exact. she’s one of the elder’s granddaughter, and the way she spoke to me made me feel like i was sinning. i didn’t even do anything!”

“well..”

his eyebrow quirks as satoru began his sentence. 

“did she have big tits?” 

geto’s face quickly turned from curiosity to disgust. he abruptly stood up from the table, placing both hands on it for support, and got all up in satoru’s face.

“how could you ever speak so unashamedly about a lady like that?! let alone speak like that in front of a priest!”

“well forgive me father, i didn’t mean to offend you and your girlfriend,” satoru said sarcastically while putting his hands up defensively. “i’ve said worse, and you’ve never had a problem with it until now. she must’ve had big tits for you to go all preacher mode on me.“  

as much as geto didn’t want to admit it, satoru was right. there were many time's geto allowed the white haired man to say the most diabolical stuff known to man. even listening when satoru would describe women’s bodies in detail and occasionally his one night stands. why was this any different?

“excuse me, is that you father?” 

there is was.

the seductive voice he met only hours ago. both boys slowly turn their heads to the h/c girl standing right in front of them. their eyes met with the beauty talked about earlier. only now you were wearing a shorter version of the dress you wore earlier. 

“m-miss. y/n? i’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time. what brings you here?” 

you only acknowledge one of the two men in front of her, and of course it was geto. your eyes met his, and never shifted away. it was almost like a dance of temptation, daring him to do further than just eye contact. the dark aura coming from you was overwhelming him, or maybe it was just your strong perfume. 

“i apologize for the disruption, father geto. my grandma asked me to run some errands. i guess i’ll have to speak with you later tonight.“ 

before geto could get a word in, you once again walk off. just like before, he once again glances down there. 

forgive me Lord, for i have sinned. 

“dude what the fuck was that..” the white haired man questioned. he also noticed the thick tension that was stirred by non other than you.

“i d-don’t know. i cannot see her tonight. i’m scared she might tempt me into.. into doing something that’s against the scripture.”

he now finds himself in the confessional booth, anxiously waiting for your arrival. it was currently 9:47 PM, you were late. it did not help his anxiety at all. he’d give you until 10:15 for you to arrive. anything later would have to just be scheduled on another sunday. 

he lets out a deep breath before he hears the clattering of heels. geto takes a peak out of his curtain only to be met with a sultry gaze. he quickly closes off his curtain, and subconsciously wipes his sweaty palms on his lap. this was like any other confessional, there was nothing to be conspicuous. 

“father geto? are you there?“ you ask in a voice just above a whisper. 

geto swallows whatever was in his mouth before speaking.

 “of course i am.“ 

“ahem, forgive me father. i have sinned since i first moved into this town. actually, i sinned today after the sermon.“ 

he stays silent. he’s tempted to ask what you’ve done, and if it possibly had something to do with him. but you answer his unspoken questions before he can think about it for too long.

“before moving into this lovely town, my grandmother sent me a picture of her priest. goodness, i didn’t know what to do with myself.“ 

he was determined to stay stoic, and not to speak unless it was to say a prayer. but her hushed voice and the strong tension made it difficult. the air seemed to thicken every time she finished a sentence. geto couldn’t escape your magnetic pull of lust.

“a-and if i may ask, what did you do to deal with your problem?”

“i couldn’t resist myself. after i saw the photo of him, i began to have lewd thoughts. every night leading up to my departure, i’d touch myself thinking about him. then..”

she lets out a small moan, but geto would describe it as a small whine. now he was breathing heavily as his boxers started to tighten up. there was no way he could get hard in the church. it was sinful. but he was here to help you, and allowed you to continue.

“i met him today. after the sermon i started using objects to make myself feel satisfied. but it was nothing compared to his large hands shaking my hand. i can only imagine him using his hands going inside of me instead of holding a bible. even now, i cannot resist his voice..” you confessed as heavy breathing came from your end. 

“..come over to my side dear. let me help you.” he whispered.

you waste no time he notes from the sounds coming from the other side. your heels clacked once or twice before you pulled the curtain from his side. 

he studies your face very carefully. there was a light red tint spreading across your cheeks, and your ears were bright red. his eyes then wander down to your very revealing shirt that showed a lot of cleavage. the shirt was accompanied by a matching skirt, a very, VERY, short skirt.

you walk into the tight fitting booth. before he can get his hands on you, you kneel down in between his legs. your pretty little head lays on his left thigh.

“forgive me father. how can i ever make you forgive me for my sins?” you lift your head and your hands start to wander on the edge of his pants. “tell me father, there must be a way..”

geto feels a bead of sweat going down his forehead. there were many times that grandparents introduced their grandchildren to him, in hopes they get married. or, when satoru would convince him to agree to a blind date. his answer of rejection was always the same. 

‘i am devoted to the man above, i musn’t be distracted.’ 

where was his reasoning of rejection when he watches you pull both his pants and undergarments off? 

you grab his dick and painfully slowly lick the tip of it. leaving any pre-cum on his tip, now in your mouth. a slight moan leaves his mouth. this was a pleasure that he’s never experienced before. devoting all 24 years of his life to God has never brought this much fulfilment. 

where was his reasoning of rejection when you put his whole dick in your mouth without any hesitation?

your sudden move of deep throating him caught him off guard. he’s now holding your head in a gentle manner, as gentle as he can be. geto is lost at words, he can only moan uncontrollably while playing with your hair. the only thing he can fixate his eyes on was your beautiful hair getting tangled into his fingers. 

where was his reasoning when you made him finish in under five minutes even though it felt like an eternity for him?

you continue to suck him off, hollowing your cheeks for a better suction. your hands wander down to his balls, giving it a small massage. you're not sure what you did right, but it worked. geto was now praising your name instead of the lord’s. he feels an unfamiliar knot unwinding itself. 

“y/n.. please i feel..” he lets out a breathy moan instead of finishing his sentence. his eyes shut close to full enjoy the euphoric feeling. why did he want to reject your advances in the first place? he can't seem to remember. 

“father..” you cooed while taking off his shirt. of course, the hot pastor with a big dick was also very nicely built.

“oh geto, why do you hide this from me?”

your hands wander his chest then it starts to follow his happy trail. your movement was haltered when he reached out for your chest.

“the same could be said for yourself. show yourself to me, please. i beg.”

his eyes looked like a puppy who had been kicked. there was no sane woman in the world who would say no to his violet eyes. your hand then reaches out for his, and then place his hand on the hem of your shirt.

“take it off for me, father geto.”

being enchanted with your hypnotic gaze, it drew him like a moth to a flame. he lifted your shirt, taking your bra off as well, and stared with admiration. you had an art of seduction that was compared to no other. he watches you sit on his lap as you lift your skirt. 

this is sin. he was sinning. 

but he didn’t stop you as you sat slowly onto his dick, moaning in joy. he watches you go up and down painfully slow.

“c-can you go a little faster..?“ he moaned into your ear. being too embarrassed by his request, he buries himself on the side of your neck. taking in your scent, leaving small pecks on the spots you sprayed perfume. 

“you’re t-too big geto~” you whined into his ear before you attached your lips onto his. 

he was an inexperienced kisser. an inexperienced everything actually. it was easy for you to take the lead by biting onto his bottom lip. he opened his mouth to let out a small whine of pain and you took the opportunity to slip your tongue in. 

you feel yourself juices slide down your thigh onto geto’s lap as you continue to bounce on his dick. large hands start groping your ass, giving you a smack on one of your cheeks. you yelp in response. it was unexpected from a priest.

“father, use me. be as rough as you want with me.” your hands start undoing his bun, turning his hair into a disheveled mess. 

“i-i shouldn't be so mmm- rough on you.” 

you felt honored by his insistence on being so gentle. his grip on your waist tells you a different story. it was obvious he wanted to go faster than the pace you set.

“please geto, for me at least.”

oh, how could he ever deny your requests? 

his grip on your waist tightens as he lifts you up and rams into you. all pent up sexual frustrations he’s ever had in the past 24 years are being taken out on you. throughout the heavens and earth, you were his only sole purpose in life. the way you took him in so good without any complaints was proof enough. 

marks form on his shoulder and back from the scratches you were leaving. it was the only way you could hold yourself up. if not, you’d fall right into his arms while he’d continue to show no mercy on your pussy. 

geto was starting to feel what he felt earlier when you were in between his legs. his eyes gaze at yours, and gets a site he’d never unsee. small tears started forming, threatening to leave your eyes. your mouth agape as one hand held onto his shoulder, the other groping yourself.

“father geto, i-i’m ahh, i’m so close~”

on sync, the both of you came at the very same time.

geto found it more ironic than disgust when he saw the scene unfold. priest of six years, never had a temptation once in those six years. his lap was now covered in cum from not only his but the new girl in town. the new girl who easily seduced him

“forgive us lord, for the father and i have sinned.” you purred right into his ear, almost biting it. 

he massages your waist before finally putting you on your two feet. you're barely able to stand up without the support of the wall.

"y/n, we can never do this again. never speak to me unless it's about my sermon."

now it was his turn to leave before you could get a word in. he pulls his pants up and swiftly puts his shirt back on.

"you were sent by the devil, and i've failed my lord. stay far away from me you whore."

[cervvsq]

bandages.

inspired by ‘fate is cruel’ by @slaymitchabernathy !

summary: issues between you and coriolanus cause a failed suicide attempt to occur.

WARNINGS: suicidal thoughts, major mental heath issues, sharp objects, self harm, silent treatment, manipulation, abuse, speaks about sex but no actual smut, reader is described as his “dumb, little wife”, reader always forgives him, lots of angst today :(

no use of y/n // no name for reader.

masterlist

“…yes, and, no sharp objects around her for a good while…”

“…when the time is right, she may be able to leave the mansion. until then…”

“…take me for a fool, festus? of course i’ve made sure no one finds out about this. it’s already been a great embarrassment between me and those who know.”

the hushed voices of your husband and his colleagues through his large oak door made your heart sink. whether it was out of shame, pain, or anger was beyond you.

pulling the sleeves of your silky nightgown over your wrists, you took one last deep breath and knocked once on the door. like always, it was small. gentle. that’s who you were perceived as anyway. surprisingly, it was hard to be confident and loud when you were married to the most powerful man in panem — especially around his associates. being anything other than the perfect capitol lady was a disgrace to society.

whatever conversation they were having shut down immediately, a few throats clearing as coriolanus’ deep voice gave you permission to walk in. you ignored the uneasy thrill of your heart racing when all eyes of older men were on you, in a small yet beautiful nightgown, usually only for your husbands eyes in your home house. it was strange for him to have this many people here at this time, even in the president’s office.

but many things were strange lately. ever since—

“darling?” that familiar voice ripped you out of your thoughts, and you nearly sunk into the floor when the look on the men’s faces had suddenly switched to pity. blinking a few times, you perked your head up to listen.

“i asked if you were alright.” he smiled gently.

“of course. my apologies for the interruption — i hadn’t realised you were busy.” you lifted a delicate hand to brush your luscious hair from your freshly-washed face. this small act caused your loose sleeve to slip from your wrist, causing everyone’s eyes to rip away from you faster than they looked.

apart from your husband’s.

his chiseled jaw clenched for a moment, staring intensely. realising your mistake, you immediately dropped your hand, eyes locking on the floor. suddenly, it felt like you were 5 years old getting scolded in front of your father’s friends.

feeling your whole body suddenly become boiling hot from embarrassment, you refrained the urge to run out the room.

“it’s no bother. what do you need?” you couldn’t even answer before the sound of your husband’s chair scraping across the floor rang in your ears, telling you everything you needed to know. his hand was on your cheek, coaxing you to look up at him. once you complied, he leaned forward, lips by your ear. you avoided looking at all these unknown faces whilst coriolanus murmured words out of earshot to anyone but you.

“give me twenty minutes for me to sort some things, and i’m all yours, i promise. you need rest, i’ll get someone to escort you back to our room.” his words were meant to be reassuring, but they only made you feel sick. you didn’t need someone to escort you to another room in your own fucking house.

biting back the tempting dare to shout, ‘i’m not a fucking child!’ in his face, you simply gave him a smile that didn’t reach your eyes, letting him kiss you on the cheek. he guided you back to the grand oak doors of his office, hand on your lower back for only a few moments before he shut the door as soon as you stepped out.

ᥫ᭡

silent tears felt like knifes as they slid down your angelic face.

with shaky hands, you pulled your sleeve down.

it took all your strength not to scream and bawl at the sight you had to face every night and morning now.

the bandages.

layers of thin, white, woven cotton wrapped around your dainty wrists, a harsh contrast to your smooth skin. the reminder of what you had done haunted you every second of every day.

but it wasn’t the concealment of your wrist that tormented you. it was what held beneath it that really made you crawl. not just the slash — but the memory of that night.

ᥫ᭡

3 weeks earlier…

“…just once, just once, maybe i thought you could be an adult. to be a proper wife, but you can’t even do that. no, really, what can you fucking do, hm?”

your eyes had gotten used to the familiar burn of your tears. the embarrassment grew every time. he always knew what to say to bring you to this state. sat at the end of your large shared bed, sobs strained your raspy throat, you squeezed your eyes shut to block out his harsh words.

it clearly was the end of the world to him, what you had done. you had “ruined your body,” he had spat earlier.

you couldn’t bear to look down at the 4 pink scars on each of your upper thighs. you were an idiot for thinking he wouldn’t notice. why wouldn’t he? after the arguments, after the name-calling, after the gaslighting, it was always the same. he fucked you all night, whispered pleasure-filled ‘apologies’ and left you to wake up to an empty bed and not see any sign of him until 7pm when he would return from work.

“your words really hurt me sometimes, coriolanus…” you choked out. he was so angry, veins bulging from his neck, hair a large contrast to how neat it usually is. he let out a bitter laugh. “my words?”

“do you know how silly your little act is?” he reached forward and grabbed a handful of your hair, forcing you to look up at him. the tight grip he had on you didn’t match his sudden calm tone.

“this is what mentally unstable people do, darling. are you unstable? did i marry a crazy person?” he taunted, tilting his head patronisingly. it surely coaxed the reaction he wanted.

a few more tears fell down your flushed face, and you tried shaking your head. “no, no, i’m not crazy, coryo… i’m sorry, i won’t do it again!”

“oh, baby, don’t cry. i know you won’t. i’ll make sure of that.” his hand loosened in your hair, stroking it softly. his words settled you down a little more, oblivious of what was to come.

you lowered your head, leaning forward to press your forehead against his abdomen as he stood above you. still comprehending the whole situation, hectic hitches of your breath escaped your lips and shook your shoulders.

“you know i love you, my sweet girl. it pains me greatly that you’re this stupid sometimes.” his stinging words sounded gentle, so you didn’t pay any mind. you were just coriolanus’ dumb, little wife anyway.

when you didn’t respond, he pulled your hair again, eliciting a strangled mewl. “i know, i love you too..!” you cried out. he nodded, moving his hand down to your cheek.

“are you going to disappoint me again?” he took your chin firmly and shook your head left and right. satisfied, almost amused, a smirk curled on those lips. the same lips of his that can spew the most vile words, and all the more loving ones.

ᥫ᭡

the next morning

waking up, you felt light as a feather whilst the morning light poured through the tall curtains. like usual, coriolanus was probably already at work.

after a night of sex, promises, and praises, it seemed your husband had gotten over your self-harm silly mistake! oh, how clueless you were.

when you walked into your large closet, it felt like you had been shot.

it was all gone.

all your glamorous dresses, expensive shoes, beautiful jewellery.

empty. your side of the space you cherished the most in your house was completely desolate.

breaking down in tears, you ran into the bathroom to your vanity.

also barren.

the only thing displayed on your once packed beauty area was some moisturiser and a toothbrush.

after 10 minutes of crying your heart out on the bathroom floor, you got up and opened your bedroom door, determined to belt coryo’s workplace out until his secretary answered and put you on the phone to him.

two peacekeepers stepped in front of you. before you could open your mouth, one of them recited their orders.

“apologies, mrs snow. you may not leave this area. orders of president snow.”

you could punch one of these men right now.

raising your eyebrows, you gaped at his words. “excuse me? this is my own house!”

they shook their heads. “apologies, ma’am. orders of president snow.”

feeling your eyes begin to sting, you turned around, closing the door and collapsing onto the bed, curling up into a fetal position whilst you cried.

you were stuck here.

when the clock hit 8, you were still in the same position you were in when you laid down. never did any staff bring food, or drinks — so you kept yourself occupied with 2 things. cry. sleep. cry. sleep. not moving once.

not even when your husband’s voice was heard muffled outside the door, probably talking to the peacekeepers. or you. you didn’t care anymore.

the door opened. only a sigh was heard, followed by footsteps.

“sweetheart?” the name only caused your heart to clench. more so when a hand landed on your shoulder. you didn’t move. “what’s wrong?”

this caused your jaw to tighten and your eyes narrow. spinning around, tears already streamed down your cheeks.

“what’s wrong is you locked me in here! all day!” you shouted in his face. “and all of my belongings are gone! you took them from me! you’re fucking evil—!”

his caring act snapped, grabbing you by the neck and forcing you down onto the bed. the livid, animalistic look in his eye was something you’ll never forget. he breathed deeply, heavily, closing his eyes as if to calm himself down. lucky for him — barely any air could leave your lungs right now. but he made sure you heard him clearer than you could breathe.

“and clearly, you haven’t learned your lesson. just when i thought you couldn’t get more dense. get up.” he spat the last two words, releasing his large hand around your neck.

spluttering, you gasped a few times, standing up and wincing when he grabbed your wrist tightly. leading you down the hallway, he spoke as you tried to catch up.

“you told me last night it was my words that caused you to hurt yourself.” he scoffed, continuing to drag you along.

he stopped you both in front of a room you hadn’t even been in before, despite living here nearly a year now. “and the clothes, well, i can’t have anyone knowing about your little vice.” he chuckled, as if this was funny at all. “you will get your clothes handed to you when needed.”

you wearily eyed the door in front of you. “what are you doing?”

he sighed. “since my words affect you so much,” he mocked, “i figure it must come to me not speaking to you whatsoever. maybe that will put an end to these games you insist on playing.” he opened the door.

“enjoy your new room.”

ᥫ᭡

2 weeks later

“please, please, coriolanus! i’m sorry! please just talk to me!” you bawled, on your knees in front of him whilst he sat at his desk, skimming over some documents.

he paid you no mind.

no attention, not even a glance.

it didn’t matter how much you screamed, called him names, insulted him, whatever. he didn’t acknowledge you.

you were given dresses by maids whenever there was a dinner or gala you both needed to attend. even then he didn’t speak directly to you, only referring you in conversation with others when necessary.

sometimes you threw up from how much you weeped.

coriolanus was all you knew. despite his behaviour towards you at times, his affection and care fuelled you endlessly. no matter how many times he laid his hands on you, his praises, his touch, was like a million apologies. he broke you repeatedly, then healed you once more. you’d rather have him beat you up and take care of your bruises than this.

for 2 weeks now, he hadn’t laid eyes on you, never mind touched. if he wanted a message across about plans for the week, he got his staff to do it.

there were no more dinners, no more kisses, no more scolding, nothing.

you weren’t permitted out of your room once it hit 7pm. that was the rule all the way to 7am. it ensured you didn’t try to leave, is what the peacekeepers said. you had a feeling it was so you didn’t bother their dear president. the man who was meant to be your devoting husband.

your bathroom was empty apart from a toilet, mirror, toothpaste, and a brush. sure, the intricate design was luxurious, but every room in the presidential mansion had to be spot on. even if you were basically being kept prisoner in it.

the only clothes in your closet were pyjamas and slippers. any fancy clothing were brought to you when needed. you found yourself wondering if coriolanus picked out the dresses.

you were invisible.

so now, as you begged for the 3rd time today for him to give any sign he gave a shit about you, you felt yourself reaching your breaking point. it was his and the staff’s day off, you weren’t missing this opportunity to try fix things. it was going nowhere.

you didn’t even exist in your own house anymore.

standing up, you walked out, leaving his study door open. the tears once pouring down your rosy cheeks had stopped. you almost felt dizzy.

walking into the room which you and coryo once shared, you walked into your his bathroom. top left drawer. that’s where he always went to shave.

when you used to get ready for bed together.

when he would tease you about how seriously you took your skincare routine.

when he would come up behind you and place kisses on your neck.

when you would stand on your tip-toes to shave his face for him.

that felt like years ago.

and suddenly, before you could stop yourself, you were reaching for the spare blades in the packet, taking one out.

you were like a ghost to him now anyway. he was a ghost to you now, too. a ghost of who he was. who was he now? and where did he go?

too much. it was all too much.

with one smooth slash, the blade ran across your vein. just above your pulse. then the other. slash. it was only when the clatter of the blade dropped onto the marble floor, followed by droplets of pure red when the gravity of the situation settled.

what the fuck?

what did i do?

“what did you do?!” coriolanus yelled. his voice never sounded so urgent. turning your head, the last thing you felt was his hand slipping under you, lifting you up before you fainted.

ᥫ᭡

present time.

ever since then, it was like nothing happened. things went back to normal. well, not completely, of course.

it had been exactly a week and a half since the incident, and coryo had put many things in place to ensure your health and safety was protected.

his razors were now locked up.

all jewellery only he got for you, to make sure there were no sharp edges.

no access to the kitchen without any company.

your bandages were changed every other day.

you had to see a doctor every day to check and treat the deep wound.

but no amount of antibiotics and bandages could soothe the mental wounds.

only coriolanus could.

but all of these restricts set in place didn’t bother you. why? because you had gotten him back.

you had moved back into your shared bedroom.

most of your dresses were back.

he spoke to you gently.

he caressed you, he kissed you, he treated you like a porcelain doll.

there was no apology for practically locking you up. you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

after all, you got your coryo back.

even if all these precautions and pitying eyes from the very few people who know do tick you off at times, you would choose this life any day over the one you had when he was so vile to you.

finished crying, you stared at yourself in your vanity mirror. he kept his promise. the door opened, and his lips tugged into a smile when he saw you. walking over, he leaned down and kissed your cheek. “i’m sorry for their prying eyes. how are you feeling?”

you shook your head, dismissing his apology. you hated any references to your attempt. “i’m okay.” you smiled.

coriolanus intertwined his hand with yours, pulling you up from your vanity stool. “my sweet girl.” he murmured, leading you over to the bed.

you laid down, and he hovered above you, his arms wrapping around your small frame. “never do something like that again, please.” he spoke into your hair.

you held your breath.

“i won’t.” you whispered. so delicate, so pure.

shame it was a lie.

as much as you didn’t like lying to him, you couldn’t help it. telling the truth would only make things complicated.

but it was true. you’d do it again and again if it meant you could have this coryo forever. and you’ll be sure to prove it if he ever dared to change again.

ᥫ᭡

oneshot!