#genuinely i just wish everyone was raised in that kind of peace

[clamorybus]

i complain about my parents a lot on here but honestly, i know im very fortunate to have them

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 14 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, risky motorcycle ride? (idk nothing bad happens but always wear helmets, friends), some fun flirting & jokes, but mostly ANGST AND PAIN (including explicit descriptions of very intense anxiety at the very end)

words: 12.3k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 14 ► this isn't over 'til we talk in the light, said i was sober, but you knew that i lied

In the lounge area outside the changing rooms of “013” in Tilburg, Jungkook was engaged in a very intense game of table tennis against Seokjin—and winning, even though Seokjin would have disagreed—when you entered to inform the band that they were going on stage in twenty minutes.

The game wrapped up as the members began to stretch while simultaneously accosting Jimin about their in-ears. There were never any serious issues – Jimin made sure he was the Sound Technician of the Year –  but they enjoyed seeing him panic when everyone started moaning, “could you turn the backtrack up a bit?” or “I literally can’t hear myself.” This last one was Taehyung’s favourite, until Jimin started retorting with, “well, maybe you’re deaf,” and then continuing with his day.

The pre-show ritual was always chaotic, but it was endearing chaos, full of nervous laughter and sparkling eyes as the members of Rated Riot prepared for their performance.

Then, just as Jungkook left the dressing room, putting his own in-ears back in, he turned the corner and almost collided with Sid, who looked more than pleased when Jungkook took a surprised step back.

What an absolute eye-sore, Jungkook thought. As the tour went on, he began to understand your aversion to his friends better.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, and it sounded like he wasn’t just asking about Sid being in this room. He was questioning Sid’s constant presence on this tour. Surely, with Jungkook no longer participating in his little games, he had to get bored and go back home.

The past few weeks have taught Jungkook that some friendships had an expiration date, and sometimes stupid bets accelerated that process. He was okay with that now—he realised that holding onto Sid would be much worse than being left alone.

“Just came to wish you luck before the show,” said Sid, who had never genuinely wished anyone luck before. “We’re here if you want to talk.”

Jungkook frowned and glanced at Minjun—who stood further away from the rest of their friends, and rolled his eyes—then he looked back at Sid.

“I’m good,” he said slowly and cautiously as if Sid was a snake that attacked when it sensed defiance.

Just when Jungkook thought he was safe and tried to walk away, Sid’s saccharine voice—the venomous kind—called out, “don’t forget we’re going out racing tonight!”

Jungkook stopped and turned to him again. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Don’t be like that,” Sid taunted. “This could be your chance to practise riding a rental since it seems like you’re going to lose your bike in five—”

“You really don’t have anything better to do, do you?” Jungkook interrupted. Maybe it was the pre-show adrenaline or maybe he had finally grown tired of Sid’s bullshit, but he added, “I feel sorry for you.”

Sneering because people felt many things for him – mostly contempt – but pity wasn’t one of them, Sid leaned in closer. It was a tactic that Jungkook had already grown immune to, but Sid was a creature of habit.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he hissed, not bothered by the emptiness in Jungkook’s stare. “See you later.”

“You won’t,” Jungkook asserted. “I’m not going out with you. This is all over, including the bet.”

Sid raised his eyebrows. With a very specific sense of justice that no one else in this hallway—or in this world—possessed, he declared, “I get the Katana, then.”

There was something questioning about his tone, however. As if he needed Jungkook’s confirmation that he did indeed lose this bet to Sid.

But Jungkook was firm: “You don’t.”

Sid threw his head back and scoffed with an exasperation that could have put a two-year-old to shame. “Well, then neither do you!”

“That’s fine,” Jungkook said. “Minjun can keep it.”

As Sid huffed and growled in frustration, Jungkook looked at his friend again. Minjun seemed about ready to interject—he was the one person here who did not want the bike and, in fact, wished it did not exist at all—but Sid finally found his words.

“You think Minjun can—the bike is mine,” he insisted. “I won—”

“Sid, you don’t give two shits about the fucking bike,” Jungkook cut him off, very tired of the repetitive argument. “Get over it.”

The conversation with Taehyung at Hoseok’s party weighed heavily on Jungkook’s mind. He knew he had bigger things to worry about right now—forget losing the bike. He might lose you.

In his usual dignified manner—so, not dignified at all—Sid rolled his eyes and snarled, “I agreed to bet on it, didn’t I? Obviously, I do give a shit.”

“No,” Jungkook said. “You give a shit about winning. But it’s over. We’re not doing this anymore. Deal with it.”

There was a redness on Sid’s face that hadn’t been there before. A week ago, Jungkook would have been excited to see it—it would have certainly meant a point in his favour. Now, he didn’t want to see Sid’s face at all.

“It’s not over,” Sid argued, persistent like a fly that keeps hitting the glass of a window. “There’s still five days left.”

“Five days until what?”

Four heads whipped around to see you standing at the end of the hallway, confused by the snippet of conversation that you’d overheard. You had returned to find Jungkook because the rest of the band was already pacing – or, in Hoseok’s case, doing restless sit-ups – by the side of the stage.

Jungkook, Sid, Jude, and Minjun stared at you with eyes so bright and wide that they could have guided ships off the coast.

You’ve never met four boys who looked more stunned to see you. It was as if you had accidentally stumbled into the latest concert of the Masculine Ritual, Absolutely No Femininity Allowed, God Forbid Someone Who Identifies as Female Enters The Room tour, and they could not believe this was happening.

“Uh,” Jungkook was the first to react as he immediately approached you. “I’ll tell you later. They’re just excited about, uh, London.”

You did the mental calculations while Jungkook gently squeezed your shoulder to turn you around and steer you away from his friends and towards the stage.

The London show really was more or less in five days, so you decided not to question that part. But the quick pace at which Jungkook was pulling you away from the others still unsettled you.

As you turned a corner, you looked back and saw Sid frowning at you, while Minjun—as usual lately—looked like he regretted being born, and Jude—as usual always—was picking his fingernails.

“Is Sid in one of his chaotic moods again?” you asked as you walked—nearly ran, actually, with the way Jungkook was pulling you. “Should I be concerned?”

“No, no. Everything’s fine,” he assured with a dismissive wave of his hand. “He’s just… doing Sid things. You know. Nothing to worry about as long as—well, as long as you don’t get in his way. I have everything under control.”

Your primary goal on this tour was to stay out of Sid’s way as long as he stayed out of yours. But now was not the time to discuss it, because Rated Riot had three minutes until their performance.

“Alright, then,” you said. “Leave me out of it and we’re good.”

Jungkook coughed in response and stopped once you reached the other members of the band. You thought you saw Taehyung raise his eyebrows when Jungkook took his hand off your shoulders, but maybe you were just imagining it.

You turned to the rest of the band, all of whom looked pale and fidgety and unsure.

The speakers had malfunctioned during the soundcheck earlier, so Jimin and Seokjin had to cut it short to fix the problem. Naturally, the disruption of their usual routine made the band anxious. The table tennis match between Seokjin and Jungkook—arguably the most unhinged members of the team when it came to games—had distracted everyone, but now they returned to the unpleasant arms of anxiety.

“Come on,” you said, trying to sound more energetic than you were feeling. “Stop looking like you’re going to get hanged. You’ll do fantastic out there. Go and have fun. And don’t bother coming backstage until you’re drenched and the crowd won’t stop changing your names. I mean it.”

Finally, a small smile appeared on Yoongi’s face as he rolled up one of his pant legs—for no reason other than he thought it looked cool. Honestly, it worked for him.

“Why did that last part sound like a threat?” he quipped, standing up straight.

“Because it is,” you replied. When you turned to Jungkook, he had his eyebrows furrowed as if he was still worried about something, but he started to smile as soon as he felt your gaze. You added, “I’ll be out there watching you. Kick some ass.”

You high-fived all four of them and pulled back as the boys erupted battle cries and huddled together before taking the stage.

They were still nervous, but they had you and each other, and there was a room full of people excited to see them perform. This was supposed to be just another day at the office.

Smiling, you headed back to your usual spot by the stage where Luna was chatting with a few girls at the barricade, and Maggie was snapping pictures of the audience nearby.

It occurred to you while standing there, that you were thousands of kilometres away from your house, away from everything familiar. But with Rated Riot on stage, and Luna and Maggie by your side, you felt right at home.

There was nothing you wished more than to stay like this forever.

It was an unwritten law that touring with a rock band was fun, but quickly turned very hectic. Insomnia often became an unwelcome friend—especially for the members of the band who had fashionable bags under their eyes almost every day. But when they were on stage or meeting their fans after the show, they looked alive. They looked happy.

And the more drinks they had after the concert, the more that happiness seemed to grow.

“You know what I think?” Yoongi said on the couch in the dressing room where everyone had gathered after the show. He was tipsy as he swung the green Heineken bottle around, nearly splashing you and Namjoon as you sat on either side of him. “I think next time we’re in Europe, we’ll be performing at Wembley. Stade de France. The fucking Coliseum.”

“And Camp Nou?” you teased.

Yoongi and Namjoon—both avid Barcelona fans—nodded in eager agreement.

“And not as guests at festivals, either,” Yoongi continued. “Headliners.”

You smiled. “I can see that.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi’s own smile widened. “When we announced our tour, Kerrang! called us ‘The Next Reconnaissance’ on their Instagram.”

You felt an uncomfortable twinge in your stomach at the mention of the other band and turned away from the two boys. You remembered the alternative culture magazine running rampant with the moniker—always “The Next Reconnaissance,” never just Rated Riot.

“I… don’t think you’re the next anything,” you said. “I think you’re you. And being Rated Riot is already amazing.”

Yoongi needed a moment to process your words. For some reason, he had expected you to agree with the nickname. Part of him wanted to be “the next Reconnaissance,” considering how much they had achieved. But you were right.

“I like that,” he said. “That’s good. Yes. We’re Rated Riot. We’ll get Wembley. And Camp Nou.”

“I second that,” Namjoon said, pointing his beer bottle at the other boy. “But, oh, we saw Reconnaissance at Rose Bowl last year, remember? Might be the best concert I’ve ever been to. I know they were in town again before we left for Europe, but I didn’t get to go. It was at a smaller venue anyway, I think. Rose Bowl, though... Stadium shows are something else.”

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at Namjoon over Yoongi’s head. The producer didn’t normally say this much in one breath. He was clearly getting drunk.

Yoongi, on the other hand, didn’t notice anything wrong. He was likely equally as buzzed. He hummed as he threw his head back and took a large swig of his beer. Then he turned to face you.

“We’ve never opened for a band their size before,” he said. “Do you think we even could? I mean, they’re not The Rolling Stones, but they’re… well…”

He let the sentence falter because he couldn’t find a fitting word, but both you and Namjoon understood.

“Uh, well, who says you can never work with them in the future? I know their manager,” you said, trying to sound uplifting, but quickly catching yourself. You could have made your point without mentioning this. But because the two boys suddenly looked at you as if you’d just said you were Kurt Cobain in your past life, you had to explain, “he’s, uh—he’s Nick Zhou. I worked under him after university.”

“No shit?” Yoongi raised his eyebrows even higher. “Are you still in touch?”

“Not really,” you mumbled, finding yourself in a tough spot. Avoiding the subject now, when you were the one who mentioned Nick, would essentially mean lying to them. You didn’t want to do that. Awkwardly, you admitted, “although, he did, um—he called me a few days ago. Back in Oslo.”

“What?” Namjoon leaned forward to look at you over Yoongi, who stopped drinking his beer, distracted by the conversation. “Why didn’t you say anything? What did he want?”

Suddenly, you regretted finishing your beer before you joined them on the couch.

“Well, see, that’s the thing. He, uh—he wasn’t calling about the band. Or, well, he was, but it wasn’t—okay.” You closed your eyes and took a breath. This was a very long detour to get to the most important sentence. “He said he’s looking for an assistant manager.”

The two boys next to you exchanged a look.

“And… he wants you?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “But only because he needs someone quickly and he’s already worked with me before, so—”

“Well, fuck,” Yoongi concluded, cutting off your humble explanation, while Namjoon offered an equally insightful, “wow, shit.”

You nodded – both observations accurate – and quickly added, “I didn’t—I’m not going to do it, though.”

“No?” Yoongi asked. “Why not?”

The hint of surprise in his voice made you uncomfortable. It sounded like the reasonable decision would have been to accept Nick’s offer and leave Rated Riot to work with this much bigger, much more intimidating band.

“I-I guess I don’t want to be anyone’s assistant anymore,” you stammered. “I like running the ship myself.”

The guitarist’s expression softened. But before he could speak, Namjoon slapped his palm on his thigh and cheered so uncharacteristically loudly that you and Yoongi both pulled back from him in surprise.

“I know that’s fucking right!” Namjoon cried out. “Steer us all right and Rated Riot will surpass them. You’ll be calling that guy to get him to be your assistant.”

You laughed at the unexpected proposition, and Yoongi gave your knee a friendly pat.

“We won’t let you down,” he said, much more collected than the boy next to him. “You know?”

“I know.” You were smiling with all the warmth in your chest. “I believe you, that’s why I don’t want to leave. But, uh—would you mind not telling anyone else about this? I don’t want it to, you know, blow out of proportion. It wasn’t even an official offer, really, he just mentioned that there was an opening. But I just… I thought it would be unfair if I didn’t eventually tell any of you.”

Yoongi nodded knowingly. Rated Riot didn’t have a designated leader, since Namjoon—as their main producer—and Seokjin—as their stage manager—called most of the shots, but as the oldest member of the band, Yoongi was typically the one to talk to you about the heavier topics.

“It’s cool,” he said. “As long as you’re staying with us, no one else really needs to know about this, right?”

What he’d just said—paired with the way he looked at you for a few seconds longer than necessary—seemed to imply something else. Your eyes automatically drifted to Jungkook, who was talking to Seokjin and Jimin on the other side of the room.

You lowered your eyes. “Yeah.”

Yoongi finished his beer in one swift gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then, he looked at you again.

“Thanks for that, by the way,” he said.

You met his gaze. “For what?”

“For believing in us enough to stay.”

Namjoon felt himself smile as he quietly finished his beer. He knew he was tipsy, but he wasn’t drunk enough to interrupt the moment between you two.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you said. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Here, you turned to Namjoon. “Right?”

Looking at you in surprise after you addressed him, the producer scrambled to nod.

“Oh, hell yeah!” he said, leaning forward to reach Yoongi’s completely empty bottle with his own. “Here’s to Wembley next year.”

You smiled as the older boy clinked his empty bottle against Namjoon’s, then tipped his head back to get the last stubborn drops.

“Oh, by the way,” Yoongi spoke as he swallowed and immediately coughed. “D-did you find out what was going on with Jungkook and his lyrics?”

It took you a minute to recall your last conversation with Yoongi—the one that had led you to Jungkook, where he had dodged your questions and later snuck into your bunk on the tour bus and kissed you.

“Uh, well.” You tugged at the sleeve of your leather jacket. “He said that the song he played you was just a demo. He’s still working on the melody. And he said that he just has someone who reviews his lyrics for him, nothing more.”

Yoongi nodded to the rhythm of an unusually slow Asking Alexandria song that played from the speakers of the dressing room.

“So, we shouldn’t worry?” he asked, clearly hopeful.

“Apparently, no,” you said with an uneasy smile.

“Alright,” he decided. “Then let’s not worry.”

He looked at Namjoon who nodded in support of this decision.

And so, not worrying was exactly what they did. Instead, Namjoon brought three more bottles of Heineken and you all decided to just feel happy tonight.

As you scanned the room with a new bottle in your hand—while the boys finished their beer in under a minute and Namjoon got up again to bring more—it seemed to you that everyone had made the exact same decision.

Except Taehyung for some reason.

For a good minute, you watched him walk in circles in the very centre of the room. Then, just when you thought he’d stopped, he started another lap around the carpet.

“Excuse me for a minute,” you said to the two boys on the couch—they both nodded—and stood up.

A brief, unexpected fight broke out over the bottle of beer that you’d handed them—Namjoon won—and you hesitated for a moment as you realised you had a new problem and weighed it against the previous one.

The new problem was that Yoongi and Namjoon were getting very drunk. It was almost ridiculous, but probably harmless. Taehyung, on the other hand, seemed to be waiting to perform at four more gigs as soon as he left this room. You had to go to him first.

He had noticed the commotion by the couch, but he did not acknowledge your approach.

“Is everything okay?” You had to stop right in front of him to ask as he continued his frenzied pacing. “You’re kind of walking in circles here.”

Taehyung stopped as if in a daze and looked at you. “Hm? Ah. Lots on my mind, I guess.”

You nodded slowly. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Uh…” He looked around. The movement seemed thoughtful, but without a clear purpose—it seemed like he was just avoiding your eyes. Then you saw his gaze land on Jungkook. Taehyung looked at him for a moment, then turned back to you and scratched the back of his neck in a telltale sign of universal discomfort. He said, “honestly, maybe it’s not me that you should be talking to.”

You glanced at Jungkook, too—he was explaining something to Jimin with very wild hand gestures. He still appeared to be on a high from the concert.

“You mean Jungkook?” you asked, shifting your attention back to Taehyung. “Is he the reason why you’re pacing?”

“Sort of,” the bassist replied, blinking at the carpet.

You didn’t like the trepidation in your stomach. And you definitely didn’t like the unexpected memory of the alarm that you had seen on Jungkook’s face in your hotel room in Amsterdam.

“Why?” you asked because, despite the ominous dread that you were feeling, it was still your responsibility to know what was going on with the band.

“Just talk to him,” Taehyung advised. “But don’t tell him I said so.”

You hesitated, wanting a bit more information before you dived off this cliff headfirst. You asked, “at least tell me if something happened, so I can be prepared.”

He glanced at Jungkook again. This time, the younger member seemed to sense his gaze as he turned around. Taehyung looked away immediately.

He muttered quickly, “ask about his friends,” and then retreated to the very back of the room until he was fully concealed by Hoseok and Maggie.

A reluctant “oh,” passed your lips, but knowing that Jungkook’s friends were involved meant that there was nothing else that Taehyung could have said to you anyway.

You had to go straight to the source.

You couldn’t say this surprised you. You already got an odd feeling when you walked in on Sid and his Asshole Alliance before the concert tonight, but Jungkook had assured you that everything was fine.

However, if this was something that made Taehyung stomp around the room—which never happened unless the situation was extremely stressful, like the time Luna was getting surgery and he almost rubbed off the soles of his shoes, walking back and forth in the waiting room of the clinic—then it most certainly wasn’t fine.

Your original plan was to wait until everyone was back on the tour bus, since you’d be spending the night in Tilburg anyway. But then you remembered all the times you’d asked Jungkook if everything was okay—and all the times he said it was—and you decided that waiting would not cut it this time.

“Hey,” you said right in the middle of his conversation with Jimin. You added an apologetic, “could you excuse us, please?” but Jimin could tell as soon as he looked at you that he’d better leave.

As quickly as it was humanly possible, he nodded and jogged to join Yoongi and Namjoon by the door of the room. The two of them were loudly discussing their plan to go out and find a bar, but they paused after noticing Jimin.

You watched them for a moment, wondering if you should have stopped them from leaving when they were already so drunk, but they noticed you, waved, and left before you could open your mouth.

Sighing, you turned to Jungkook just as he asked, “what’s up?”

He didn’t appear unusual when you looked at him. But he rarely ever did.

“Are you okay?” you asked in return.

You were both tired of the question, but Jungkook disliked the sound of it particularly much this time. He’d seen you—out of the corner of his eye—take six steps in his direction right after you finished talking to Taehyung.

What if he’d told you?

“Uh, of course,” Jungkook said, looking at you with just as much confusion—and a sprinkle of suspicion—as you were looking at him with. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” you said. Your heart rate increased as if you’d already heard the bad news you were expecting to hear. “How are, um—how’s Sid and everyone else?”

Jungkook disliked this question even more.

“Oh,” he said in a relaxed tone that sounded forced even to him. He cleared his throat and scanned the room for the older member, but didn’t find him. Even more nervous now, he turned to you and tried again. “You mean Sid and the others? They—they’re okay. Sid’s just being annoying, but what else is new? But I’m—we’re all okay. Thanks for, uh, for checking in.”

“Of course,” you said. You waited for him to elaborate so you could discover the reason for Taehyung’s anxiety which resulted in two more members of the band that you needed to worry about.

Honestly, Hoseok was the only one who wasn’t playing with your nerves tonight. You saw him peacefully tapping his foot to the music in the room as he chatted with Maggie and a few other staff members.

Jungkook did not pursue the topic further.

“What did you talk about with, uh—with Taehyung?” he asked instead with all the subtlety of a frightened elephant in a porcelain shop.

“Oh, this and that,” you lied. Then, feeling uncomfortable about lying, you scattered a bit of truth in there, “Luna’s face-timing her mum on the bus, so he was—he’s bored.”

“Ah.” Jungkook nodded. “Makes sense.”

He didn’t think—or didn’t want to think—that Taehyung would tell you about the bet after he asked him not to.

And, really, he tried to be reasonable. If Taehyung had told you, would you be here, peacefully asking him if he was okay?

No. You’d use fists, he presumed. Possibly knees.

“So, there’s nothing you want to tell me?” you asked suddenly, interrupting his masochistic fantasy.

Jungkook swallowed. Whatever it was that you talked about with Taehyung, it was clearly neither this, nor that.

“There is, uh, one thing,” he admitted slowly.

You inhaled. “What is it?”

“What are you plans for the rest of the night?”

This was not what you had braced yourself for. Annoyed by his stalling, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket.

“Well, depending on what you tell me, either I’m arguing with you or going to sleep,” you said. Glancing at the phone in your hand, you added, “it’s two in the morning.”

“We have tomorrow off,” he reminded you. “Well, today, I guess.”

“I know, but we’re going to Cologne—”

“That’s only in the evening.”

“Okay.” You looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear the two of you. Not that you were doing anything forbidden—just merely bordering on it. “What are you getting at?”

“You’ve finished all your work for the night, right?” he asked and you nodded apprehensively. He said, “come do something with me.”

Once again, the dilemma that plagued your mind whenever you were with him returned.

The responsible thing to do here would be to, of course, gently suggest going to sleep. There was a long day of travel ahead of you, after all.

However, this could be your chance to determine if there was truly something alarming happening between him and his friends. Not to mention, he clearly still had something to tell you, despite appearing to have lost courage after the strange moment in your hotel room.

And, alright – the truth was, you wanted to do something with him.

“That’s very vague,” you finally said. “What do you have in mind?”

“Come with me,” Jungkook said, gesturing towards the door of the dressing room.

You agreed to follow him to the door but paused before leaving the room.

“I’d like more information,” you said, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest.

You tried to convince yourself that there was no logical reason for the entire room to be watching you and Jungkook right now, but you still felt phantom eyes all over yourself.

This wasn’t Hoseok’s party. You were still at the concert venue where Jungkook was the performer, and you were the manager.

He noticed your unease. First, he sighed. Then, as if he was compromising, he extended his hand.

“Take my hand,” he said. “And come with me.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant—”

“Come on,” he cut in, waving his hand in front of you. “Less talking, more holding my hand.”

Because your back obstructed the view of his outstretched hand for everyone else in the room, you knew you didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing this. Still, you let out a slow, anxious breath.

“Fine,” you said with exaggerated irritation to emphasise your displeasure about being kept in the dark. Then you took his hand.

As the two of you exited the room, there were ulterior motives firmly set in both of your minds.

You had to find out what was going on.

He had to tell you what was going on.

And Jungkook had a plan here somewhere. He knew he needed to tell you about the bet tonight, especially since you almost found out about it accidentally right before the show. And also because Taehyung looked about ready to start climbing walls.

He had a rough idea of how he’d like to tell you: it had to happen in a beautiful spot that would make up for the awful revelation he was about to make. If not make up for it, then at least make it worth your while.

And he’d done his research—as always. This was the one lesson from your relationship that he hadn’t learned as he continued to strenuously plan everything in the hopes of making it memorable and unique.

“There’s this spot. The Wandelbos,” he said as the two of you walked hand-in-hand down the corridor of the venue.

He pronounced the word with relative ease, making you wonder how many times he’d heard it. Then he showed pictures on his phone.

“This looks like a forest,” you commented, stopping to scroll through several photographs of squirrels and autumn trees—which wasn’t easy because he refused to let go of your hand as you held his phone.

“It’s a baroque park,” he clarified. “It’s beautiful, supposedly.”

You handed his phone back to him. “I’m sure it is. But not at two in the morning.”

“The path is star-shaped,” he continued, ignoring your interjection as the two of you kept walking. “And there’s a clearing in the middle with a pond and a bridge and—oh, and it’s only about six kilometres away.”

He held the exit door open, allowing you to walk out into the brisk night air.

Crossing the threshold, you looked at him with your eyebrows raised. “You want to walk over there?”

Actually, he did. But your question made him pause. “Uh... no?”

You stopped and waited until he walked out into the parking lot, but his attention was suddenly drawn to something behind you.

You ignored that and said, “well, we can’t rent bicycles at this time and—”

“Sorry—hold on for one second,” he stopped you abruptly.

You turned around and followed his gaze until you spotted Minjun by the restaurant across the street. Your lips parted in involuntary surprise, but it wasn’t Minjun’s presence that really startled you. It was the fact that he was leaning against a motorcycle, of all things, and there were two more bikes parked right next to him.

When you looked back at Jungkook, he looked almost relieved.

How wonderful it was, he thought, that Sid was such an insufferable idiot that he would decide to have a drag race in the middle of the Netherlands.

From across the street, the bike Minjun had rented out appeared to be a Kawasaki. Despite Jungkook’s previous bad experiences with the brand—involving a mild concussion and a dented metal fence, which, in his defence, appeared out of nowhere—this gave him an idea immediately.

“Could we go over there? Or maybe you could wait here for a minute?” he asked you while already walking away—and pulling on your hand until you had to let go because you were absolutely not going over there. He promised, “one minute!”

You could tell right away that he’d just found a potential means of transportation.

“Jungkook, that’s probably not a good idea!” you called out as he neared the street.

“I’ll be right back!” he shouted, forming the shape of a heart with both of his hands as he went.

You cringed as he crossed the street without looking both ways, but fortunately, there weren’t a lot of cars around. Unfortunately, however, you couldn’t hear what he and Minjun talked about due to the distance and the heavy gusts of wind.

You waited alone, with only your confusion for company.

If Jungkook stayed with the band while his friends went out, and now he went over there to borrow some devil-sent motorcycle, then clearly, that had to mean that he finally started to make smart(er) decisions while still being on good terms with his friends.

So, what was it that worried Taehyung so much?

“Dude!” Jungkook exclaimed across the street from you when he finally reached Minjun and scared the hell out of him with his shout—he flinched so vehemently that he nearly knocked the bike over. “Whose is this?”

“Uh—mine. We rented bikes for the race,” Minjun explained and glanced at you standing by the exit of the venue. “Sid was about to call you and force you to come with us—”

“I need it,” Jungkook interrupted, choosing to ignore the fact that there wouldn’t have been enough bikes if he had come along.

Minjun turned to him with raised eyebrows. “Huh?”

“I need to borrow it.”

“Borrow—it’s a rental.” Minjun turned his head to look at the neon green motorcycle. He knew that riding down the city streets with Sid and Jude on rented bikes was already reckless. Subletting the motorcycle to someone else, however, might be equally as stupid. “It’s in my name.”

“It’s the least you can do for me,” Jungkook said right away as if he had planned this in advance instead of only noticing Minjun and the motorcycle a mere two minutes ago.

His words weren’t entirely true, considering that Minjun wasn’t the one who had manipulated him into this mess. But Jungkook was appealing to his conscience—and that thing was eating Minjun alive. You could see it from across the street, even without knowing the reason for it.

Minjun bit his lip, fighting a very unpleasant battle with his own self.

“Okay. Fine,” he conceded, even though he knew very well what Sid would say about his impartiality and about the fact that he’d now have to ride as someone’s passenger—likely Jude’s, because Sid would rather cut his own head off than allow someone else on his bike, even if it was a rental. Hurriedly, Minjun added, “you have to return the bike back by midday tomorrow.”

“Perfect,” Jungkook replied brightly. “That’s more than enough time.”

“I’ll text you the address of the rental place,” Minjun continued, getting his phone out.

Jungkook kept on nodding. “That’s great. You do that.”

His friend typed a text message and pulled out the keys to the bike from his jacket pocket. He tossed them to Jungkook just as his phone vibrated.

“Don’t wreck it,” Minjun warned. “Or yourself.”

Jungkook grinned, swinging his right leg over the motorcycle and putting the key in the ignition. “I won’t. Thanks again!”

His friend glanced back at the restaurant, suddenly grateful that the take-out was taking so long to prepare. This meant that Sid and Jude wouldn’t notice Minjun giving the bike away—even though they would notice it gone and would probably realise where it went.

Meanwhile, Jungkook revved the engine and turned towards the parking lot of the venue.

The Kawasaki felt unusual underneath him and it made him miss his Katana, but he swallowed the disconcert. Beggars couldn’t be choosers—this was better than nothing in any case.

He stopped right in front of you in the parking lot, switched the engine off, and leaned back from the handlebar to give you a smile.

“So?” He patted the side of the bike. “Ready for a ride?”

You shook your head, disapproving of the cheesy grin on his face, and sunk your teeth into your tongue to resist a smile.

There were numerous—numerous—reasons why you weren’t ready to climb on this bright green monstrosity that must have been visible from any space station above. If not visible, then certainly audible.

“There’s only one helmet,” was the one concern that you chose to voice.

Jungkook hadn’t considered that as he glanced at the helmet, attached to the tail of the bike. He leaned over to unhook it and offered it to you.

“No,” you said before he started to speak. “If anything, you should be the one wearing it. You’re the driver. And the vocalist of a band that’s literally on tour right now. You can’t perform if you get your head snapped off.”

“Can’t perform if I get yours snapped off, either,” he argued. “Put it on. I’ll go slow.”

This was still a safety hazard, and at first, you debated arguing. Then you tried to rationalise.

Jungkook hadn’t had any alcohol after the show—which was very unusual, now that you thought about it. He must have been planning something all along.

Additionally, the streets were mostly empty, except for one car whose driver gaped suspiciously at the many motorcycles on the street, narrowing his eyes at each and every one of them as he drove past.

There was also Minjun across the street, looking as though he was praying that you and Jungkook would drive off quickly.

“Come on,” Jungkook encouraged. You understood his impatience—if Minjun was here, the rest of the Insolent Idiots couldn’t be far behind.

You looked back at the helmet in his hands.

This wouldn’t be the first time you’d gotten on a motorcycle with Jungkook, but it had been a while.

He had always been a huge fan of anything that could reach over a hundred in under five seconds, so he’d been riding bikes since before he was legally allowed to. However, the two of you had already broken up when he purchased and restored the Katana that he never stopped talking about—so you’d never ridden with him when he actually owned the vehicle.

It occurred to you suddenly that Jungkook had probably never mentioned his motorcycle since the tour started. You made a mental note to ask him about that later.

Now, you finally took the helmet from him and pushed it over your head. Maybe the most important justification for your decision was this: you’d missed the excited twirling of your heart when he took you for a ride.

The joy that Jungkook felt as he watched you put the helmet on surprised him.

He remembered the first time you struggled to fasten the straps under your chin and managed to graze your skin. Now, listening to you sigh as you squeezed the helmet over your head and tightened the straps without his help, he realised that you hadn’t forgotten. That you were still used to this.

Excited shivers ran across his skin as you climbed on the bike behind him. But he could sense your apprehension—your initial instinct was to hold onto the back of the bike.

“Come on, now. This isn’t your first time,” he said, looking at you over his shoulder. “You know I won’t go unless I know you’re holding on tight.”

“I assure you,” you said. Your voice was muffled by the helmet. “I’m holding on tight.”

He clicked his tongue as he turned to face forward again. “I happen to not believe you.”

“Tough.”

“We’ll be here a while, it seems.” He released the handles and leaned back. “Maybe we should see if Sid wants to join us, I’m sure he would love to—”

“My God!” you groaned. “Fine.”

You wrapped your hands around his waist but kept your touch light, almost nervous. Grinning, Jungkook reached for your hands and pulled them closer to make sure you had a strong hold.

When he squeezed the clutch, he felt you tighten your arms around him even more. Satisfied that he could feel more of your weight against his back, he finally pressed the starter and pulled the bike off.

He raced down the street—much to Minjun’s relief—at a speed that definitely would have been dangerous for someone without a helmet if there had been other cars around. But the road was empty and there were hardly any turns to make.

And as he sped down these empty streets, you had to admit to yourself that this was, simply, thrilling.

The rapid pace seemed to elevate your insides, forcing you to hold onto Jungkook more tightly as you rested your head against his back and watched the streetlights blur together. The deafening sound of the engine, the dark visor of your helmet, the intoxicating speed, the rough metal underneath your thighs, and the soft leather of the jacket that he was wearing—all of it was absolutely exhilarating.

Jungkook knew—he’d always known—that you would have enjoyed the thrill of a late-night ride far more than a simple walk down the Tilburg streets.

And he was excited to see your silly grin and dilated pupils after you took off the helmet outside of the park. He was almost flustered by your glow—and by the fact that he was the reason why you looked so happy and so overwhelmingly full of life.

He nearly forgot to lock the bike as he looked at you.

But then the sudden memory of why he’d brought you here caught up to him like a painful crash.

“Uh, so,” he turned away, “should we go explore?”

“Might as well,” you joked weakly. Your legs were still a little shaky from the ride. “Since we’re already here anyway.”

“Right. Well, I wouldn’t mind taking another drive,” he said with a more confident smirk—that only grew in size and arrogance when he saw you smile at the suggestion. Then, he looked down and added, “but I also wouldn’t mind just walking and… talking.”

The two of you had done a lot of that—just walking and talking—since the tour started, so agreeing to this felt natural and harmless.

The park was beautiful indeed, just as the pictures on Jungkook’s phone had promised. Granted, walking through it at night when the streetlights were so sparse, provided a layer of eerie uncertainty—but even now, you were mesmerised.

In addition to the bold squirrels, peeking at you through the tree branches—their fur barely noticeable among the dark foliage, but their little beady eyes glistening—you could also see the sky above. You could see all of it, it seemed. And the patterns of the stars were so bright that you found yourself stopping several times, utterly captivated by them.

You regretted not learning the names of constellations—or how to differentiate them—but looking at the night sky was a breathtaking experience regardless.

The sky looked different here. And it felt closer, too. It was something you didn’t believe you could ever get used to, no matter how much you stayed here.

After a short while, you and Jungkook arrived at a pond, and he informed you that this was the very centre of the park.

It reminded you of home in an odd way, even though there weren’t many ponds back home—and none of them looked quite as charming as this one. Yet there was something familiar here, something homely. Even at night, in a park that resembled a forest more than a cosy picnic spot, there was something heartwarming here.

You could have been feeling this way, you supposed, because Jungkook was holding your hand as he guided you down a narrow plank over a dark creek. Without him, the eeriness of spending the night in an old park alone would have been much more noticeable. But with him here, it just felt comfortable. As if you both knew that you were destined to be safe from all harm here.

The stream ran deeper into the forest, and there were several benches scattered in the clearing on either side of the creek. The two of you sat down on one of them and listened to the silence of the trees and the gentle flow of the water.

Remembering suddenly, you spoke up—quietly, mindful not to disrupt the peace of all living things around you. “Did you know that my parents actually had their first date by a creek?”

Jungkook turned to you. He was more comfortable being loud, because he didn’t feel like a guest here. With you there, he sort of felt like the night—and everything that it touched—belonged to him.

“That’s a… very specific location,” he commented.

“Yeah.” You snickered. “There were no creeks in our town, dad took mum to the city where he grew up.”

“Oh, that’s actually nice,” he said, a little surprised. He’d never met your dad, but he knew that ‘nice’ wasn’t the adjective that was usually used in the same sentence as his name. “Was the creek special to him?”

“Not really,” you replied, shattering the romantic image that had already formed in his head. “It was the only pretty place that he could think of at the time. At least that’s what my mum thought.”

Careful, because this was a delicate topic and he didn’t want to come off like he was defending your dad, Jungkook asked, “she never found out if there was, maybe, more to it?”

“She never asked,” you said. “Either way, that date didn’t exactly end well. In the long-term, I mean.”

Jungkook looked down at the dark ground beneath his boots. A few blades of grass poked through the dirt on the shore of the creek.

“I know what you mean,” he said slowly. “But can you really say that with such certainty? She has two kids. And you’re both pretty great.”

You smiled at this, and it gave him the courage to smile, too.

“Thanks,” you said. “And yeah. I guess you’re right. Some good did come out of it.”

The two of you were quiet for a minute. It was a comfortable minute, too, but only as long as you managed to keep your mind empty.

You succeeded—the memories of the stories that your mum had told you were slowly fading, overtaken by the calming whispers of the trees around you—but he didn’t.

“I never asked—and I don’t want to intrude now, but, uh,” Jungkook started, “from what you’ve told me before, I assumed that your parents got back together at some point, right?”

You nodded with an exhale from somewhere deeper than just your chest.

“Several points, actually,” you said.

Happy that you seemed willing to share this, he encouraged, “yeah?”

“Yeah. She kept taking him back when I was young, and my brother was—well, a baby, essentially,” you said. “Everyone told her not to do it, not even for the kids. They told her to move on, maybe find someone better. My uncle—mum’s brother—protested against this especially much. He had been against their marriage from the very beginning. But my mum loved the guy.”

The smile on your face when you said that last part made Jungkook tense—it contradicted so much with the sadness in your eyes.

“Did he love her back?” he asked.

You were about to respond with a reflexive answer that had been ingrained in you by years and years of your mother screaming about how your father was a good-for-nothing loser, how he could never love anyone other than himself, and plenty of other colourful descriptions that you probably shouldn’t have known at your age at the time. And yet, despite the intensity of her emotions after every break-up, she still took him back. Until one day she didn’t.

And now you had to pause.

“That’s probably a million-dollar question,” you said with a sad chuckle. “I don’t know. Is that awful of me to say? She doesn’t think he did, but she still got back together with him so many times. So maybe he did love her in his own fucked up way. But I-I don’t think someone who loves you is supposed to hurt you like that.”

Jungkook had leaned back as he listened to you and he nearly toppled over backwards at your words.

You were right, of course.

Someone who loved you should have never hurt you.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking. “That’s, uh—that’s not awful. That’s sad, I think. Your mum deserves better.”

“She does,” you agreed. “But I understand now that—well, in a way, she is who she is because of all that happened to her. She’s very strong and she cares so much. And the fact that her only flaw is loving people too much, it’s—I don’t know. Lately, that just makes me admire her more. Because she sees the best in people. No one does that these days, everyone’s always afraid to get hurt. But my mum, she’s like—she’s fearless. You know? I genuinely respect that.”

“Even if she really does end up getting hurt?” Jungkook asked.

“Yeah. Even then. And maybe that’s the thing,” you said, looking up at the sky again. “I mean, in general. The people we love are the only ones who can hurt us like that. Or, rather, it’s precisely because we love them that it hurts so much.”

“Hmm.”

He wasn’t sure if you were still talking about your parents by the time you reached the last few sentences, but he was too afraid to ask. He couldn’t even look at you as he stayed frozen in the same spot.

“I’m probably not making much sense,” you added with a small, uncertain laugh. “I just meant that it took me a while to understand my mum. Actually, I don’t know if I even fully understand her to this day, but um… I watched her give second chances to people who held the most against her and could hurt her the most. I thought they didn’t deserve it. But she... She knew the risk, she was familiar with heartbreak, and still, she stayed hopeful. For a long time, I resented that. I thought that was a—a weakness. It sounds cruel. But I thought I could never do that.”

You paused again. The memories—of more than just your parents—flashed in your mind a little too quickly for you to collect your thoughts. You looked down to compose yourself and felt Jungkook’s hesitant glance.

Finally, you finished, “all these years of watching the back-and-forth between my parents… It made me think that I could never give someone a second chance.”

Digging into the dirt with the heel of his boot, Jungkook asked, “you, uh… you don’t think so anymore?”

He glanced at you once more and then looked away again, even though you weren’t looking at him. Your gaze was fixed on the creek in front of you.

“I don’t know,” you said after a moment. “I think I’m less decided about it now. I admire my mum for having the courage for it, even though it rarely ever works out. And now I guess I think that it is more of a case-by-case kind of thing. It depends on the person.”

Feeling as if his chest had absorbed the water from the pond and everything inside of him was being flooded, Jungkook didn’t dare to inhale.

Breathlessly, he asked, “what about me?”

“You?” you echoed awkwardly. He gave the smallest of nods in response.

You realised quickly that you hadn’t said this to him in over four years, and it felt terrifying to admit it now with the solemn trees, a hurried creek, and curious squirrels for an audience.

“Well, fuck.” You swallowed. “I mean, I love you. You know?” You chuckled to hide your unease and leaned down to touch the blades of grass growing under the bench. “Too much for my own good, probably.”

Jungkook suddenly forgot how to breathe. He looked up instead, but only caught a glimpse of the stars in the sky before he closed his eyes. The view behind his eyelids felt more special to him than the shimmering sky above—it was all darkness and dim echoes of you saying you loved him.

He couldn’t tell you now. How could he? You loved him.

And a second chance with you was all he’d ever wanted.

When he opened his eyes again, you were watching him. There was a haziness in your eyes—from the starry night, from the motorcycle drive, from the long overdue confession—and a small smile on your lips.

The moment that his eyes drifted to your lips, he felt himself inhale—more than once and he would have floated away—before he leaned in, responding to everything you’d said with a kiss.

He’d tell you about the bet, he would—but not now. Not when he felt your breath hitch as his lips touched yours. Not when you kissed him back, replacing all air in his lungs with your taste.

Right now, neither of you needed to say any other word as the forest around you settled. The leaves were frozen as if the wind didn’t dare to rustle them for fear of interrupting you.

The thought made you smile into the kiss—what a self-centred way to interpret your surroundings—and Jungkook pulled you closer.

For a minute, he made it feel like the world really did stop turning for the two of you. Like the forces of the universe had interfered to—

He pulled away all of a sudden, breathing so heavily that he was nearly hyperventilating.

He couldn’t do this. He’d already done too much.

The time that he’d borrowed—that he’d stolen—to be with you in peace had run out. Not even the universe could give it back to him.

“I’m sorry. There’s just, um,” he began, looking down and bringing a hesitant finger over his lower lip. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You felt your heart skip over a beat.

Immediately, you found yourself returning to the hotel room in Amsterdam. It felt vastly different now and the difference sobered you up—you had been in your hotel room then, but you were alone in an empty park tonight. And you realised that discussing it here would be a mistake.

Whatever he was about to tell you might make it difficult for you to stay here and you would have no way to leave.

“Wait,” you said. The word caught him off guard. “Tell me when we get back.”

He blinked. The very reason why he’d brought you here was to tell you the truth in a place that was yours for the night.

“W-why?” he asked.

“It’s not fair to me otherwise,” you said. Your heart had shifted from pleasant pounding to near-panicked banging, and you were starting to feel nauseous. “I’d be very inconvenienced if I was left here alone.”

Jungkook appeared even more perplexed. “Why would you be—I’m not leaving. I’m staying with you.”

“That’s assuming I don’t kill you after you tell me what you’re about to tell me,” you tried to joke. There was a small—almost desperate—smirk on the corner of your lips.

Jungkook looked away.

“Oh.” Nervously, he licked his lips. He hadn’t considered you being so uncomfortable after he told you that you wouldn’t want him around. And now that he thought about it, he felt a little dizzy. “Well, that’s, uh… that’s fair enough. Should we—do you want to go back?”

The dread in your stomach seemed to grow at this question.

You knew that you had to be aware of what was happening with him, but the ceremony of it—the trip to this beautiful spot and the kiss that unintentionally coaxed him into the truth—scared you.

You wanted to resist the rational parts of your mind and stay here, where you had just forbidden him from speaking about this.

“Not really,” you admitted.

Jungkook nodded, relieved by your honesty. “Me neither.”

So, you stayed still for another minute. Then another minute. And another one. Until all the additional time you’d given yourselves had run out, too.

You peeked at Jungkook out of the corner of your eye, afraid suddenly that he would look back at you and then you’d have to talk, after all.

He seemed very far away. Much further than that first night in Amsterdam, when he came to your hotel room to talk.

Now there were sirens blaring in his head and a relentless pounding in his chest. You could almost hear it when you looked at him.

At last, you said, “but we can’t stay here forever.”

Despite looking like he had drifted into another realm deep inside of his mind, Jungkook sighed. He’d been listening to you breathe, listening to the way the wind played with your hair. He was here.

But he really wished he wasn’t.

“I know,” he said.

Still, the two of you remained on the bench for another five minutes, surrounded by the quiet rustling of the weary trees. Even they seemed anxious for you.

This might be the last silence the two of you would share, Jungkook thought grimly.

He felt terrified.

Finally, he took a breath and turned to you. “Let’s—”

A faint buzzing from the back pocket of your jeans startled you both. The sound seemed so foreign here, like something that had travelled across time and space, and accidentally ended up here—in your universe, where it didn’t belong.

You pulled out your phone and saw, first of all, that it was four in the morning, and then that Namjoon was calling you.

“I should take this,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the tension that had left your hands very cold.

“Go ahead,” Jungkook mumbled.

This was fine, he tried to tell himself while you stepped away from him to answer the call. He would take you back to the truck stop where the tour buses should have been parked by now. And then he would tell you.

And whatever happened next would—

“So, that was Namjoon,” you said, returning to him with your phone in hand. The call had lasted for less than a minute. “Apparently, someone stole Yoongi’s laptop.”

Nearly thrown off balance at the news that sounded somehow disrespectful, considering the many things you already had to process, Jungkook frowned.

“Someone stole Yoongi’s laptop?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” you said, sliding the phone back into your pocket. You knew something like this would eventually happen. “Namjoon said that he and Yoongi went out for more drinks, and when they got back to the bus, the laptop was gone. They’re not sure when was the last time they saw it.”

Jungkook stood up from the bench. “Well, why do they think someone stole it? Maybe he just lost it.”

“Yoongi’s not the kind who loses things,” you pointed out.

“Well, Namjoon could have lent a hand with that.”

You shook your head to conceal your small, involuntary smile and shrugged, acknowledging that there was a chance that this really was a false alarm. Especially if Namjoon was involved. You all loved him very much, but he had a talent like no one else to consistently misplace his own—and others—belongings.

“They were already quite drunk when I talked to them backstage before leaving,” you said. “So it’s possible they got even more wasted and just lost track of it. Either way, I need to go back and find out what happened.”

You returned to being the band’s manager, and Jungkook wasn’t sure how to handle the sudden switch. He wasn’t sure how to handle anything that was happening. This whole park was spinning around him.

He felt a little bit like the creek behind him as he watched you—flowing somewhere on pure instinct, with no clear destination in sight.

“Yeah. Okay,” he said. Hesitantly, he extended his hand for you to take—to help you over the loose wooden plank again. And to ground himself with your touch. “Let’s go, then. We’ll talk later?”

You took his hand. “Yeah. We’ll talk later.”

The truth was, you did not want to talk later.

You had a terrible feeling about it, and however irresponsible it may have been, you wanted to delay it as much as possible.

When you and Jungkook returned to the truck stop, Yoongi and Namjoon had already figured out where the laptop was. They looked very pleased to have remembered the Locate My Device app, never mind that you were the one who had kindly reminded them about it over the phone.

The laptop was, as it turned out, at a McDonald’s across the city. Neither boy could recall ever going there, so they remained convinced the device had been stolen.

You listened to their hypothesis with a serious face. But, unlike them, you were sober—the few beers you’d had after the concert were long forgotten—and you knew that the “thief” would probably be smart enough not to stop for a McFlurry after stealing someone’s computer.

The logical explanation was that your usually lovable and dependable boys had gotten so drunk that they’d forgotten about the fast food trip and left the laptop there themselves.

Regardless, you had to investigate. Because Yoongi and Namjoon were both pale with terror—and still buzzing from the spontaneous beer-tasting adventure that they’d gone on—it was up to you to find the computer.

You didn’t mind. This was your job, anyway. And you were eager to do something that did not involve talking about whatever it was that Jungkook wanted to talk to you about.

Jungkook, on the other hand, did mind. And it was evident when you exited the bus and saw him standing by the doors, pouting.

“I have to pick up the laptop,” you said, “and maybe report it to the police if it was really stolen.”

“Should I come with you?” he offered, not meaning to give you the option to refuse—which you took, of course.

“No,” you said, “you need to rest.”

“And you don’t?” he countered. “You’re the one who’s so overworked that—”

“Don’t start with that again,” you said, raising a stern hand to cut him off before someone overheard. You caught the flash of surprise in his eyes and the expression on your face softened a little.

You hadn’t meant to sound harsh, but you’ve had an impossibly long day.

“Don't worry about me,” you said. “This is my job. I have things to do. Laptops to save.”

“If I come, then—”

“Stay here,” you interrupted. “You had a show tonight. Now you have to get some sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

Biting his lip as mixed feelings of guilt and regret bubbled in his stomach, he asked, “we’ll, uh—we’ll talk, though. Right?”

“We’ll talk,” you promised. “Tomorrow.”

He fought with himself for another moment and then ended up saying, “okay. You never take me with you anyway.”

You didn’t have time to argue, so you kissed him before you went—quickly, softly, and with a nervous smile as you pulled away—and his heart seemed to leave with you as empty echoes of his racing pulse reverberated through his chest.

Tomorrow was very far away.

That would have been good if Jungkook still felt the paralysing panic from a few days ago. But even though he still felt scared now, he had already braced himself for the emotional consequences of telling you about the bet. Delaying it—against his will, this time—felt excruciating.

He knew he was the one to blame – he kissed you in the park instead of telling you about it right away, and then he agreed to wait until tomorrow.

And maybe this was what he deserved. He should have told you. But he hesitated and tried to convince himself of all sorts of irrational thoughts—and now here he was.

Alone.

And he was so frightened of being alone that he climbed right back on the motorcycle and headed to the address of the rental shop that Minjun had given him. He needed to do something, because he couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t scream at the top of his lungs, either.

Easily enough, Jungkook found himself in the bar of a hotel across the street from the rental shop. The shop didn’t open until eight, so he had a little over two hours before he could return the bike. A little over two hours before the night ended and he had to figure out what to do next.

He finished his first glass before a single thought could occur to him. By the second one, he felt his body start to relax, but chaos continued to reign in his mind.

What will I do, what will I do, what will I do?

As Jungkook lost track of how many drinks he had, he pondered every which way to reveal this to you and all the questions that you might ask.

What was the trip to Paris for? And the persistent way he followed you around? The conversation on the bridge in Stockholm? On the rooftop in Oslo? The bicycles in Amsterdam? The nights in your hotel room?

None of that was truly for the bet. But would it matter?

You said you loved him tonight. But you’d hate him tomorrow.

Maybe he could wait for five days until he formally lost the bet. Maybe he should tell you then. Maybe the fact that he lost something important to him would make up for—no.

Jungkook shook his head, nearly spilling the bourbon in his glass. He paused then, not even sure if he was still drinking bourbon. It all just tasted wet to him at that point.

Regardless, he couldn’t tell you after losing the bike. Even losing it didn’t seem like such a tragedy right now, compared to losing you.

While he agonised over it, the bartender continued bringing him drinks—always on the rocks, even though he couldn’t feel the cold anymore. The bartender was a kind elderly man, who probably should have known better than to keep serving alcohol to someone at six in the morning, but his experience told him that Jungkook was someone who needed it tonight.

Soon, however, Jungkook’s pride—his high tolerance for alcohol—became his biggest foe. He didn’t even realise how intoxicated he had become.

For all intents and purposes, he believed he was still fairly sober, considering how easily he spilt everything that was bothering him to the bartender. He even understood the advice he received in return—not that there was much to it.

“You have to tell her, son.”

He did have to tell you. He knew that.

And he was going to, he decided. Right now.

Jungkook found his way out of the bar with relative ease. Sure, he forgot that he had driven Minjun’s bike there, but he was able to walk without stumbling much, and that surely had to be an achievement.

Swaying only slightly, he stopped in the lot where the bus was parked and found your contact in his phone. Of course, the many emojis he’d used ensured that your name was the first one on the list, but he still found it easily enough.

Now, he had to admit this: he wasn’t sure if you actually answered his call. But he asked you to please, come outside, and within three minutes, you were standing in front of him.

If he had been aware of how drunk he was, he would have realised that he was screaming, so it didn’t matter if you’d picked up his call or not. You would have heard him anyway.

“What’s going on?” you asked, too confused to feel worried. You’d just returned with Yoongi’s laptop about half an hour ago. You weren’t sure if you’d even fallen asleep before coming outside again. “Are you drunk?”

There was exhaustion in your posture that Jungkook was too drunk to identify. You were very tired of dealing with the problems of drunk people tonight.

When Jungkook spoke, words poured out before he could properly think them through.

“Listen,” he said. His tongue felt oversized in his mouth. “I have to tell you something. I can’t—I should’ve told you this a long time ago. Maybe on the same day. Actually,” he hiccupped, “I never should’ve done this at all, then there would be nothing to tell.”

He hesitated for a moment, because in his mind—which was positively swimming in whiskey—he worried that his words may have caused a misunderstanding. He saw the frown on your face and cut in before you started to speak.

“Actually, no,” he said. “There would be things to tell. Because I like—I really—I like to talk to you. I want to tell you all kinds of things...” he paused here. Shook his head. “But not this. I don’t want to tell you this. But I must.”

He thought he came off very determined here, very confident. Really, he just sounded tired and drunk.

“Jungkook,” you said. “When I said we’ll talk tomorrow, I meant in the morning.”

“It’s—” He hiccupped again. “It’s morning.”

He wasn’t wrong, of course.

“After we got some sleep,” you clarified.

“Well, I can’t wait that long,” he insisted, stomping his foot and throwing himself off-balance. He had to lean against the side of the bus to stay upright.

You could tell that whatever he wanted to tell you was far worse than you expected. He was so drunk that he could barely stand, yet he was as determined as ever to get it all out right now.

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest. The anxiety that you’d evaded was quick to resurface, and even you felt a little unsteady on your feet.

“Okay,” you said. “Well, what is it?”

Jungkook straightened as much as he could.

A deep inhale, followed by a sharp, rushed exhale.

“I made a bet with Sid that I’d get back together with you.”

Silence came next.

You felt a sinking sensation deep within you as if something—an invisible current—was pulling you under the surface of the water. The ground beneath you swirled in uncertain whirlpools.

“Sid said I couldn’t do it,” Jungkook continued after a moment, his eyes cast low. “And I was—I wanted to prove him wrong. He is wrong. He’s always wrong, he’s such a—anyday. I mean, anyway. T-that’s not—I didn’t—this isn’t making any sense.” He slapped himself on the forehead in newfound frustration and you flinched at the abrupt motion. The slap only made the truck stop start to spin around him. Pressing his hands to his hips, he tried to explain, “I didn’t win or anything. Which you obviously know, since we aren’t back together.”

He laughed sadly here. You narrowed your eyes and felt one of them twitch.

The night was cold, and you clutched your arms tighter around yourself. Your posture was not aggressive—you gazed somewhere past him and you appeared frightened. You looked as if the wind might snatch you and carry you off to a place that he could not reach.

But then your eyes met his and there was a frigid emptiness there that he didn’t recognise. He shrunk into himself when he noticed it.

“I-I bet my bike, so I lost that,” he continued. “Well, not yet, but I’m going to lose it soon. Not on purpose, but Sid won’t fucking let me end the bet—” he cut himself off by inhaling again.

It seemed like there was so much oxygen in his lungs—he kept breathing in as he spoke, but never breathing out.

“That’s not the point,” he finished his thought. “What I wanted to do—to say, I mean—is that I’m sorry. I wasn’t—I shouldn’t have done that. It was stupid. Sid got in my head.”

“Sid,” you repeated suddenly. The sharp sound of your voice startled him into looking up. “Got in your head.”

He looked at you for half a heartbeat. Somewhere in the whiskey haze, he could recall his conversation with Taehyung—or someone who resembled Taehyung. Jungkook remembered something about this being his own responsibility.

But then, he wasn’t sure if he remembered who Taehyung even was. Because, to be honest, he wasn’t sure if he remembered who he was.

“That’s an—that’s… that’s an excuse,” he managed to say. The letter S tasted wrong in his mouth. He clicked his tongue and continued, “he’s always in my head. I should’ve known better. I—I’m so sorry.”

You were breathing heavily, but you weren’t speaking.

He blinked his heavy eyes, each one of his eyelashes like lead.

“I just… I want you to know that everything that happened—it wasn’t because of the bet,” he said, swallowing after a great struggle. All these drinks tonight, and his throat still felt dry. “It was because I am—I really have been in love with you the whole time, and I—but I couldn’t—I can’t ask you to get back together while there’s this bet going on. Not that you’d agree—I just hope that you would—but I... i-it wouldn’t feel fair. It’s so—it’s all so fucking stupid.”

He groaned again and covered his face with his hands for a moment while he tried to collect his thoughts. There was so much he wanted to tell you and all of it was coming out so quickly that he wasn’t sure he told you anything at all.

“I had to—I should’ve told you sooner,” he said. Then, biting his lip harder than he’d meant to—the metal piercing dug into it painfully—he added, more softly, “I’m really sorry.”

You remained firm in your position and really started to resemble a statue. Contrary to what he expected, you didn’t ask him a single question. You just stared at him without any distinct emotion in your eyes.

He didn’t know what to do.

“Aren’t you,” he said shakily, “going to say anything?”

You finally moved—to inhale, then exhale. All through it, your chin was turned up as you looked at the line of trees in the distance.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” you finally said.

It was a sharp knife to his chest, this hollow voice that was supposed to belong to you.

He hung his head and took a deep breath.

None of this mattered.

It was over.

“You’re drunk,” you added then. “Go to sleep.”

He thought he caught a glimpse of sympathy in your words and he grasped at this flimsy straw and held onto it with all his might.

“Y-you heard me, though, right?” he tried, his voice desperate, eyes watery. “None of it was for the bet, I really—”

“Go to sleep, Jungkook.”

He couldn’t go to sleep, not if it meant he’d have no one to wake up to.

“Can I—” He coughed, the words catching on the sandpaper in his throat. “Can I talk to you in the morning?”

You stayed silent for a long, almost never-ending minute. Jungkook counted each second in his head, and he knew he might have messed up the numbers at least three times, but it still felt like you’d never speak again.

“I don’t think,” you finally said, “we have anything left to talk about.”

You turned around, but stopped for less than a moment, seemingly hesitating when you heard him call your name. Then you took another step and opened the door of the bus, climbing inside and leaving him here alone.

This wasn’t the first time you walked away from him, but this time, he knew it was his fault.

And there was another element to the suffocating grip around his neck—ever since you began to manage Rated Riot, you’d never left him alone when he was drunk.

But you left him tonight.

And even drunk, he knew what it meant.

He thought he’d prepared himself for this. But the sight of your back as you walked away from him, the sound of the bus door as it clicked shut behind you, and the feeling of complete silence around him at the truck stop—it all finally knocked all the oxygen out of his lungs. It made his heart beat faster, ridding his bloodstream of alcohol until all that he felt was pain.

He was not prepared for this. He doubted he ever could have prepared for it.

But he should have known this would happen.

He really fucked up. He ruined everything. It was over.

Hunching over as he tried to inhale but couldn’t, Jungkook pressed his hand to his chest. He felt something pulsating under his fingers, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Someone had emptied out the cavity inside of him where his organs had once been and filled it with rocks.

His vision was white and blurred. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t stand.

He didn’t know what was happening to him.

He felt himself slide over the side of the bus until he hit the floor and smacked his head into the bus wall as violent tremors took over his body. He tried to breathe as he counted the beats of his heart until he couldn’t listen to his pulse whispering the same conclusion to him over and over again.

It was over.

It was over.

It was over.

It was—

His hand dug into the gravel on the ground, then grabbed the front of his shirt and held it in a tight fist. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Nothing worked to stop the relentless judgment from breaching his resistant mind.

He ruined everything. It was over.

Jungkook didn’t know how long he struggled to fill his lungs with something other than the heavy, opaque pain of losing you again.

He didn’t know why he struggled, nothing even mattered anymore.

When he eventually realised that he was still here and you still weren’t, there was an early morning redness in his eyes and on the edges of the sky above him.

Most unusually, the only clear thought in his head was about the bike that he’d told Minjun he would return. Another promise that he had failed to keep as he suddenly remembered abandoning the motorcycle by the bar.

Then he remembered the bar.

He had already drunk half of it.

He struggled to his feet, rubbed his eyes with the balls of his palms, and went back to finish the other half.

chapter title credits: bad omens, “what do you want from me?”

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[imaginesandsmut]

You Sweet Dumb Thing

Ethan Landry is a family orientated guy.

He fucking loves his family, he would do anything for them, he would kill for them. Correction, Ethan was going to kill for them.

Him, his sister and father had it all figured out, their plan to kill Sam and Tara for the death of Richie was something they had planned for the past year. They had all the cogs in the right place and everything was moving smoothly.

That was until he met Y/N.

At first, the new girl in the group who managed to be loved by everyone didn’t change his mind at all. He still went about sharpening his knives and training secretly in the gym to make sure he was powerful enough to take someone down like Chad.

But then she started to weasel her way into a friendship with him, and in turn, his mind.

He hated it. The way she would smile at every single fucking person on the street, how she would offer to help anyone in the group with whatever they needed, how she would smile so widely when she laughed that her eyes squeezed close. He hated it and he hated her.

But that didn’t stop him from fantasising about her during class, at work, with Chad, at night, in the shower, in his bed, in his dreams. Every time he watched a romantic movie, he thought of her. Every time he read a book, he couldn’t process the words because she was covering his thoughts. Even when he had the apartment to himself and got the opportunity to touch himself in peace, she was still there, whispering his name and moaning as he stroked himself.

She consumed his mind that he started to forget about his plans with his family.

Slowly, Chad started to catch on and even began teasing Ethan about his crush on her. Poking his ribs with his elbow whenever she joined the group at their study table, raising his eyebrows whenever she directed a question at Ethan. Chad even went so far to try and wingman him at the halloween party.

~~~~~~~~~

“Look at you man! You’re a snack!” Chad yells over the music, alcohol affecting his system. “Practically an entire meal!”

He was being genuine and kind, but Ethan felt a little ridiculous in his handmade cardboard robot costume that he didn’t feel like anything but a child.

“Now look over there, see Y/N?” He’s pointing to the makeshift dance floor, the girl is question swaying her hips to the music. “How do you think she looks?”

“She’s gorgeous.”

Ethan used to hide his feelings for Y/N from Chad, scrunching his nose and shaking his head whenever Chad questioned him about why he would stare at her for so long. But now, he can’t hide it. Even Tara and Sam knew about his crush.

“Perfect!” Chad shouted, handing another shot to Ethan. “Go ask her out.”

“No, I can’t do that.”

“And why not?” Chad’s tipsy demeanour was making Ethan annoyed, the frat-jock stereotype didn’t even realise how far above them Y/N was.

She was dancing with some random girls she just met 20 minutes prior, laughing at what they were saying whilst trying to keep up with the beat of the song. Her short Princess Peach dress left little to the imagination, her hips moving seductively as she danced to the song.

“We’re friends, I can’t ruin that with her!” Ethan wishes they would stop talking about this, the music pounding on his ears that he has resorted to shouting so Chad could hear him. “And she’d say no.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

~~~~~~~~~

Ethan’s father killed Jason and Greg that night, those Ghostface killer wannabes had it coming and Ethan was annoyed they didn’t get to the boys earlier. Then Ethan’s father attacked Sam and Tara in the bodega, with a shotgun of all weapons.

Ethan, his sister and father were together in his father’s apartment, going over the next part of their plan. Quinn was frantic about who to kill next and that she wants to be the one to do it, Ethan stayed quiet.

“Ethan?” His father spoke up, softly punching his son's knee in an effort to gain some attention back to the conversation.

“Hmm?” Ethan looked up from his position hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped and eyes trained on the floor.

“What do you think?” His father questions, confused as to why his son, who was once obsessed with their plan, now was silent and mentally absent.

“Think of what?” Ethan tried to shake himself back to reality, sitting back on the sofa and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Quinn killing Y/N?”

It was like ice water was dumped over him, his heart stopped beating and his hands grew sweaty. He forced his face to stay neutral, trying his hardest to not give away any emotion.

“Why are we killing Y/N? She’s not an official member of the group.” Ethan’s voice wavered slightly, he hoped that his family didn’t notice. “And why as a solo kill?”

“We can’t have too many people in the apartment tomorrow night when you attack them.” Quinn spoke slowly, twirling her hair around her pointer finger. “Plus I think it’s best to get her out of the way before you try killing the group, you know, in case you freeze up when you see her.”

“Why would I freeze up?”

“Cause you’ve had a hard-on for her for months,” Quinn laughed, “it’s better if I do it tonight and get her out of the way for you.”

“No.” Ethan’s voice was harsh, fueled by anger and fear. His father and sister looked at him, their faces as confused as ever.

“No?” His father wanted desperately to try and understand his son in this moment.

“Quinn can’t kill her.” He knew that he would need to give a good explanation, a reason as to why he was messing up their plan. “I should kill her.”

“You don’t have the balls to do it.” Quinn scoffed, brushing off her brother’s attempt at being tough.

“I’ll fucking do it,” Ethan was looking at his father in the eye, “I need to have this.”

Somehow it worked, a mere hour later Ethan was turning the key Y/N gave him in its slot and pushed her apartment door open, creeping through the living room and towards her bedroom, and towards the sound of running water.

His Ghostface mask obscured his vision slightly but he could still take in the scene around him. Printed posters of her favourite movies covered the walls, colourful decor scattered the hallway. He entered her bedroom, knife in hand as he took in the scene.

Her bed was messy, some soft teddies thrown over the purple floral sheets. Ethan took off his mask to see the room better since this is the first time he’s ever been in it, he felt like he was walking on holy ground.

The brown haired boy pushed his curls from his eyes to look at the pictures she had on her walls - lots of her, Tara and Mindy, some of her and Chad, even some of her and his sister, Quinn.

The ones he stared at were the many pictures of himself and Y/N, a lot of them candids but some of them posed. He felt a surge of pride as he outranked Chad when it came to how many times he was featured on her wall.

The Ghostface mask and knife in his hands grew heavy, as if they were trying to actively fall out of his hands.

He can’t do this.

His thoughts here growing wild and anxious, overloaded with fear as to what he was preparing himself to do. Ethan can’t kill her, he would rather slit his own throat than do it to her. He even realised that he would rather kill someone for her.

The sound of the shower had stopped and Ethan began freaking out, it was now or never. But in that moment, he backed out. He was happy that he took this job from Quinn, but now he needed to find a way to get out and keep his family away from her.

The bathroom door began to open and Ethan knew it was too late for him to run, either she would catch him or someone else would. Instead, he stuffed the mask and knife under her bed haphazardly. The boy struggled with the black robe that covered his body, pulling it roughly over his head and also shoving it under her bed.

Then, quickly trying to find a way to explain why he was in her room, he walked over to her desk and started looking for her Econ notes, his cheeks were hot in anxiety and fear.

“Ethan?”

Her voice was soft and nervous, as if it wasn’t going to be him. Ethan’s shoulders tensed as he slowly turned around, an embarrassed smile on his face.

“Hey?”

“What are you doing?” She was dressed in a small top and even smaller underwear, the flimsy fabric of her top showed her nipples through the fabric whilst her underwear were dainty little lacy things that made Ethan feel hot. 

“Why are you in my room?”

He realised he was ogling her, just staring at her body and she used her arms to cover her chest, not moving from her spot on the other side of the room.

“I’m so sorry.” Ethan pushed himself to say, darting his eyes down as he played with the paper containing her Econ notes in his hands. “I just needed to run in and grab your notes for Econ, I didn’t think you would be here.”

She didn’t say anything, just stared at him whilst trying to cover herself with her arms. He gulped in the silence, just staring down at his hands. She was probably doubting his excuse, wondering why he didn't send a text or ask for them the next day. Ethan’s mind was swirling with his stupidity, he should've just ran.

Ethan has imagined so many times being in Y/N’s room whilst she was wearing that exact outfit, but also in those dreams, he’s much more confident and makes a fucking move.

Now, he can’t even look at her. Too scared that if he takes in her body once more, he’ll get a boner and embarrass himself even further. Even thinking about the fact that she’s standing only 5 steps from him in a see-through top and lace underwear was making him hot and flustered.

He looked at his feet and saw his Ghostface mask poking out from underneath her bed, the knife next to it gleaming in the soft warm light of her bedside table lamp. Y/N was so stupid to be so defenceless, if only she knew how he had protected her from being stabbed to death by his sister, if only she knew of all the things he does for her. If Ethan wasn’t around, Y/N would be so lost, like a little kitten begging for shelter, and Ethan was the only person who could be that for her.

Y/N should be thankful for him.

A new feeling came over Ethan like a cloud rolling over the hills, powerful and daunting as the new darkness showed in his eyes. Confidence began to pump through the blood in his veins, giving him a new aura that even Y/N noticed.

Y/N’s demeanour changed from confused to scared, she had never seen Ethan like this. Her feet started to shuffle back, but the more distance she made between them, Ethan matched her steps and kept the distance.

“Ethan?” She sounded lost, it was like his name was the only word she knew. “Are you feeling good?”

The boy started to grin, closing the distance between them whilst Y/N tried to move further away. He could see it in her eyes, the soft glow of not just fear, but of heat that was spreading all over her body, Although she was stepping away from him, her chest was rising and falling rapidly in anticipation, her eyes were heavy and lidded, and her cheeks were blooming with splotches of red.

She wanted him.

“Do you have any idea how badly I've wanted to be alone with you? To see you like this?” Her back hit the wall and her hands broke apart from her chest to feel the wall behind her. “I’ve been so stressed out lately, please help me?”

“Help you how?” Y/N’s voice was deathly quiet, Ethan had almost missed it due to the blood pounding in his ears almost making him deaf. His brown eyes were pouring into hers, causing her to melt inwardly and her knees were starting to buckle.

“Be a good girl and let me touch you, yeah?”

He could see the range of emotions cross over her face, most of them were confusion and intrigue. Ethan will admit, the nerdy virgin facade he puts on isn't completely false, that definitely was him a year or so ago. But after Richie died, something snapped in the Kirsch family and Ethan grew out of the geek he used to be and became someone completely new, someone sure of themself and hollow.

But the nerd is who Y/N knew, who she was comfortable with. This new person in front of her wasn't the Ethan she was friends with, but he could tell she was turned on nonetheless. Ethan’s body was now pressed up against her, his hands on either side of her head whilst he lowered his lips to ghost over her skin. Her breath hitches as he knows she can feel how hard he is against her, her hips involuntarily bucking.

“You need to tell me you want this.” Even though Ethan was putting on a cool demeanour, he couldn’t help the anxious pumping of his heart at the idea that she’ll say no and push him away.

He waited with baited breath until she nodded her head, it was slight and nervous but it was all he needed before his teeth sunk into her neck, pulling at the skin and hoping to leave a mark.

Y/N moaned loudly into the still silence of the room, her hands flying to pull on his hair, either to pull him away or urge him on, Ethan didn’t know. His brain was foggy from the lust, acting on his primal instincts with the need to own her. Y/N’s panting filled his ears, her hips moving softly against his own.

“Keep going.” Ethan was boarding on being domineering and demanding, to being whiny and pathetic. “Please let me feel you.”

The girl took his words and began grinding herself onto him, heavy and lusty pants. The friction was making Ethan needy and it was making Y/N beg for more. Ethan’s lips were biting the skin on her shoulder and neck, hands reaching underneath the top to tug at her boobs.

“Please,” her head was thrown back as she was desperate for air, “please, Ethan.”

She could feel his smile against her skin, “what do you want, baby?”

“Please.” Her lips were brushing against his temple, the curls tickling her. “Kiss me, touch me, do something.”

“Anything for you.”

Ethan’s mouth crashed onto hers, his tongue already slipping past her lips. It was breathy and hot, teeth clashing as the kiss was too fast for them to even understand. God, Y/N was such a pretty thing but Ethan knew she was trying hard to keep up.

“Take your time,” his right hand left the wall beside her head and started playing with the lace at the border of her underwear, the little bow sewn into the pink fabric gaining some attention from his middle finger. “Let me show you what I can do for you.”

His middle finger moved from the bow and down, touching her through the fabric of her underwear. His fingers reached her pussy through the soft and thin fabric, her wetness already soaking the fabric. It made Ethan laugh; how easily she could get wet for him and he hadn’t even done anything.

“Do you need me here?” Ethan already knew the answer, he just wanted the ego boost of her saying it aloud.

“Mhm.” Her voice was soft and her eyes were screwed shut, but he wanted more.

“Say it.” Ethan’s tone was darker, almost like a yell with how quiet they had both been previously.

“I need you to touch me, Ethan.” Y/N pulled his hair and dragged his face closer, sealing their lips together in a heated his once more before panting out, “please touch me, baby.”

Ethan felt like he could have made her cum through her underwear with how desperate she was for him, but he wasn't that cruel. The boy dipped his fingers past the waistband and dragged them through the wetness between her folds, earning a short and stifling gasp of air from Y/N. She felt so soft, like nothing he’s ever touched before. He moved his two fingers through her slick, his thumb coming down to circle her clit and being awarded with a moan from her, still pressed to his lips.

Ethan pulled away from her lips with a groan, realising how lightheaded his baby was becoming from the kiss, only clumsily moving her lips against his. A soft smile graced his features, spit covering his lips as little heart eyes replaced his pupils.

Y/N panted as she waited for him to say something, but then his index finger pushed into her. He curled it slowly, pumping it in and out before filling her with another one. Y/N’s hands moved from his hair and held onto his shoulders, pulling him closer as her legs were starting to give out. He groans, revelling in the way she reacts to him.

“You’re so pretty, baby.” Ethan whispers, more for his own ears than Y/N’s as she wasn’t even paying attention to him. Instead she was pressing open mouthed kisses to his neck, a physical plea for him to continue.

Her breathing was heavy, whining in pain as his fingers picked up the pace as he stretched her out. Her brain was foggy and numb from the feeling, Ethan can tell from the way she only moans as a reply. She’s clawing at Ethan’s neck as she kisses him, begging him for more than what he is giving her.

“You’re doing so good, pretty girl.” The words of affirmation stirred a need inside her, pushing her to buck her hips and match the movement of his fingers. “Taking me so well.”

Ethan curls his fingers and quickens his pace, fucking her harder with just his fingers. He looked at her face and began ingraining this moment in his memory of how she looks - the way her eyes were glazing over and her jaw went slack with each thrust, his lips so pillowy and wet that he could imagine them taking his dick.

Just when Y/N began tightening around Ethan’s fingers, he pulled them out and caught her with his other arm as she practically fell to the floor. Her body hot and sweaty but not satisfied. She looked up at Ethan just to witness him put his fingers in his mouth to taste her, holding eye contact sharp and steady.

“Want you to finish around me.”

It was all the explanation Ethan gave her before walking backwards so his legs hit the edge of the bed, sitting down and pulling her underwear down before placing her on top of him. She moaned at the friction of her being bare against his rough jeans, mindlessly rubbing herself over his crotch that was now growing and straining against the fabric.

“You like this, don’t you?” Ethan asks her, using his hands to guide her desperate and sloppy movements. “Bet none of the words I’m saying right now are getting through your pretty little head, huh?”

Ethan’s eyes darkened as the image of Y/N getting herself off on his lap was not only something he constantly daydreamed about, but was now a reality. His dick, now frantic to be touched itself, pushed Ethan to turn them around and lay her on the bed.

He took his time taking off his clothes, watching as she squirms on the bed in anticipation. His awkwardly tall body cages her in as he hovers above her, she’s so delicate and pliable, something that he needs to protect.

Ethan holds himself at Y/N’s entrance, rubbing his head through her folds and gathering enough of her slick that he could’ve came right then and there. He held eye contact as he pushed himself in, both groaning at the sensation and whimpering from how good they both felt.

Y/N was like a dream, so easy and manipulatable, she would let Ethan do anything to her right in this moment. His trusting, darling girl.

Ethan started moving with fervent need, her boobs rubbing against his chest with every motion, causing him to become whiny. She tightened around him so good, her small gasps of air and kisses to his neck were so loving. All he wanted to do was pound into her so fast, to hear her screaming of pleasure and ruin her for any other man.

But she deserved sweet, sticky and hot sex to keep her in a daze whilst he killed her friends in a few hours. Then he can come back and ruin her for good, fucking her whilst she cried - about her friends or because of what he was doing to her, Ethan didn’t care. He controlled himself by gripping the sheets, squeezing the flower patterned fabric until in threatened to tear.

“So good.” She moaned, one hand tugging on his hair and the other scraping down his back. “Please, Ethan.”

It was obvious Y/N wanted something, her mind just too cockdrunk and dumb that she couldn’t form words properly.

“You sweet, dumb thing.” He groaned into her neck, one hand in her hair whilst the other dipped down to circle her clit. “Nothing is going through your head but me, yeah?”

She just nodded, mumbling incoherent words and crying to some higher deity. Ethan’s hips started snapping with a newfound speed, pulling in and out of her so quickly that even he was starting to grow stupid from how good she felt, how well she was taking him. His groans turned into whimpers as he buried his head in her neck and continued his previous assault, biting her and marking her up.

Y/N’s hips were bucking to the same rhythm of his, matching his speed whilst squeezing around him in anticipation for her release.

“That’s a good girl.” Although Ethan’s words were confident, his delivery was breathy and submissive. “Taking me so good.”

Y/N started to tear up, the feeling of Ethan touching all over her body was almost too much. His mouth came to her face to kiss her tears away, pressing his lips to hers so she could taste the salty liquid as they kissed, soaking up her moans and whimpers with his mouth.

Ethan broke apart from the kiss and let his head fall back into the crook of her neck, catching a glimpse of the Ghostface mask and knife under her bed. The mask looked back at Ethan, a symbol of the rules he was breaking in this very moment. His father and sister would be livid if they found out what Ethan decided to do when he promised he was going to slit Y/N’s neck.

But the way she was squeezing around him, tugging at his hair and clawing at his back, legs wrapped around him and pinning his body close to her, the small sounds of pleasure that forced its way past her pretty plush lips. More importantly, the feeling of himself inside her, he could even see it, the bulge in her belly showing itself every time he pushed in, then disappearing when he pulled back out.

It all felt better than any kill has.

“Ethan,” Y/N huffed, “I’m gonn- I’m close.”

The lovesick girl had her eyes screwed shut so she couldn’t see Ethan push the Ghostface mask further underneath the bed so he could continue his assault on her, quickening his pace and bending down to take one of her nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and biting on it.

Tears rolled down her face harder, pouring out of her eyes and she could barely get any words out. Almost as if he found a button within her, Y/N gasped and tightened around him, walls convulsing as she came around his cock. Her face in a state of bliss with her contractions around him have Ethan following not so far from behind, his moans and whimpers of pleasure hot in her ear.

And in this moment Ethan had realised that if it came to it, he would kill everyone, including his own family, to keep her.

[princessamahle]

Yandere rengoku x pregnant reader oneshot (rengoku ai audio added)

ooooo boy I don’t know what state of mind I was in when writing this. But I’m proud of it. Anyways it’s a oneshot so this won’t be continued by any means necessary enjoy!

He put you through hell. But he finally made you his. And all it took was getting you pregnant. He knew that would keep you from trying to get away. At your most vulnerable moment. And he knew you loved kids. So you aborting the baby was just no option for you at this point. However you did tried to recollect what brought you here in the first place. You weren’t a demon slayer. Or even a nurse at the butterfly mansion. You weren’t even a kakushi. Your main purpose for being part of the corp was because rengoku saved you once from a demon. You were heading home and when you got there you saw your father already dead and half eaten by a demon. And your mother injured on the floor telling you to run. You were frozen stiff and the demon smiled at you. “Don’t worry my dear…I’ll come for you next after I finish your mommy and daddy, so you better get a head start on running…it’s much fun and tastier for me that way….” You couldn’t even get a scream out of you because you were so petrified. But you did feel your body in need to move. Slowly but surely your legs came close to your mother.  But before you could get near her the demon body slammed you across the room and you were injured. You blacked out for a second but when your eyes started to rise you saw the demon on the floor with his head decapitated. And you saw a man with a white fiery haori.

He was near your mother. Your mother was saying “please don’t kill me….my…my daughter!” The man turned around to take a glance at you. His eyes widen. He looked at you for sometime, like you were someone important. Very important. When he finally snapped back to reality he turned back to look at your mother. The man smiled at the woman gently “don’t worry she’ll be in good hands. I promise you that she’ll be well taken care of.” He said this while raising his sword up. And eventually, he stabbed the woman to death. You kind of saw it but couldn’t hear what was happening. You were too weak.

When you awoken you were cared at the butterfly mansion. Everyone smiled and nursed you back to health. You couldn’t remember much  except the demon that was attacking your parents. And shinobu offered therapy to you if needed. But you just wanted to go home. Shinobu looked blanked at you. “I’m sorry but your parents….didn’t make it according to one of our pillars.” She explained to you as gentle and slow for you to understand. And yet you still couldn’t believe it. It made you want to scream and throw something. But instead you just sobbed. Kyojuro Rengoku finally walked in and told shinobu if he could interrupt to introduce himself. As he watched you cry he took a knee and  held you hand. “I was the one that stopped that horrid demon from attacking you and your parents. I only wish I I could’ve came sooner. But your parents pain has stopped and they are at peace. I do believe they want you to live your life. So please , continue to live your life and know I’ll be here to protect you.” You still sobbed but you were listening to the young swordsman. He seemed genuinely honest to you. He took your hand and kissed it. You blushed not knowing why that was necessary. And neither did shinobu who eyebrowed rengoku the entire time.  After a short talk with shinobu, rengoku felt it was safe for you to go live with him until you were ready to go back to your village. And for awhile you felt safe. You did have nightmares from time to time but after keeping yourself busy with doing chores with senjuro, (who loved your company) or help cook for shinjuro who you didn’t see as much but did admire him atleast being a gentleman to you and always said good morning to you. You’ve notice he didn’t seem to like his son kyojuro as much but you knew it was none of your business. At this point you did seemed comfortable there but you knew at some point you had to go back and take care of your parents home. Maybe start over and make new memories there. You did miss your friends and you did have a young man in the village you really like and your parents actually blessed you both.

You actually told the rengoku family about this during dinner time. Senjuro smiled and so did shinjuro who at this point liked your company. “Well we’re glad your happy again y/n! Just promise us you’ll write and visit us!” Senjuro replied. Shinjuro gave you a respectable nod as well hoping good fortune for you. You smiled at them both but then you notice kyojuro being unusually quiet.

But still loudly saying tasty at the table. Like he didn’t even here the conversation. Not one bit. You finally smiled at him and said his name gently “kyojuro-san? Isn’t it great?” He was chewing slowly. Very slowly. And when he finally gulped and put down his rice bowl he folded his hands and looked at you.

“That’s wonderful news…however you have no way of protecting yourself…” you blinked at his response but let him continue “you need someone like me to train you before you can go home. Who’s to say it will happen again to you or your friends or even your…fiancé?” He tremble his words a bit using that word. But he wanted to make you understand how weak you actually were in having a chance of living your life without another occurrence like this happening again. His father finally stepped in “since when did you ever care for anyone who isn’t a slayer to be your apprentice? You’ll never have time to train her properly! Your too busy in those little missions that I told you are a waste of time! Leave her be and let her lead her life in peace!” Shinjuro who hadn’t spoken up for you before did make a valuable point. It was your life and decision whether or not you chose to get training. But kyojuro also had a point. After everything you witness and endured you were still frightened of what may come if the slayers aren’t there. Senjuro just stayed quiet knowing very well this conversation may not end well between kyo and his father. But finally you said something before you let them continue. “You may have a point….I should get some training. It may be a good learning experience to learn about your corp and how you serve the country. I do want to protect my home.” Kyojuro smiled “that’s the spirit my little blaze!” Kyojuro was in high spirits again. Senjuro was relieved, and shinjuro scoffed and left the table angry. “Do what you want…it’s all a waste of time…and y/n…” he looked at you one last time before leaving “make your own damn choices next time….” He didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable he just wanted you to go home happy with your decisions. But it’s all changed now since you decided to get training.

For 6 months you did follow on kyojuro’s training and for the most part it seemed you were learning fast with the basics. When you were finally ready to use a real sword he told you that you weren’t qualified. This confused you greatly as you showed so much progress using a sword stick. “You may have learned the basics my little blaze, but I don’t think your quite qualified.” After all those months, after all that progress, he tells you your not qualified. “What do you mean? I did everything you told me to do! I even dodge all your attacks! I’ve even attack you a few times and you said I had burning passion in me! It’s almost time for final selection and I haven’t even used a sword yet!and your trying to say I’m not ready!? What was the point of all of this kyojuro-san!?” Kyojuro finally put his hands on your shoulder and looked deep in your eyes this time not smiling. This time it seemed intense but concerned at the same time.

“You aren’t fit to be a slayer I just wanted you to realize that.” Your eyes widen “excuse me?”you questioned “I thought if I kept you here with us you’d realize how much safe you were from the rest of the world. You weren’t met to be a slayer. I just wanted you to understand how much I’m willing to protect you from here on out.” You pushed his hands away from your shoulders “well who the hell gives you the right to tell me where I should and should not be!? I lost my parents from a demon and had to take therapy. I was able to gain the courage to live again thanks to your father and brother…and I thought your training would give me a secure living in defending my self and my village… are you trying to say all this time you wanted to keep me here for yourself!?”

Kyojuro was now silent he couldn’t give you a straight answer. He didn’t know how else to tell you this so he just yelled out “I’m in love with you!” You were in shock by his response. In fact he said it so loud his father and senjuro heard it in the house. They finally came out to see what the commotion was.

“From the first time I saw you…something set my heart ablaze before I could even attend your wounds. You were just so…so…radiant…” this was now creeping you out because you only saw kyojuro as a friend and a teacher. I mean you were 19 years old so you weren’t exactly too young for him. But it was obvious he had planned for you to be here from the very beginning. It seemed from here on he’d never intended to let you leave his estate. You just walked away from him no longer wanting to here him out anymore. You went into your guest room you used for the past 7 months you’ve been here. You started to send letters to your fiancé about where you had been for the past few months. He was glad to here from you and was sending you letters to come live with him and his family until you two were wedded.

You were about to pack your things. But you didn’t want to leave senjuro and shinjuro in the dark about your plans. So you told senjuro first who was sad at first because his brother was heart broken by your rejection. But senjuro loved you enough to know this will make you happy to go back home. You told shinjuro privately in his room. You bowed and even thanked him for his hospitality. He looked at you, walked up, and finally gave you a hug. But his hug seemed tighter and more intense. He whispered to you.  “Y/n, my son is not well. He has been acting strange ever since he brought you here, and even more strange since you’ve rejected him. You must not tell him you are leaving this evening. I will send a carriage to take you, as much as I would’ve loved you as a daughter in law, my son doesn’t deserve someone as sweet and devoted as you. He would just leave you alone all the time. He’ll keep you trapped here. He will never retire as a hashira.” Tears started to stream down your face as this broke your heart knowing you were about to leave them. But you knew you needed to go for the sake of your freedom and independence. Kyojuro wasn’t home yet as he had a pillar meeting that day. But he got off early due to the master needing to rest a bit sooner. When he returned he saw you were just about to leave, and his eyes widen. “Y/n…y/n! Y/n!!!! Get off that carriage! Get off that carriage now!!!! Y/n!” Shinjuro grabbed his son by the arm and slammed him down to the ground. He was now protesting his father to let him go! “Father your letting her leave!! She needs to stay here with us!!!! She will die if we let her go!!” His father held him down tighter “shut up! You were gonna ruin that girls life with your ideal lifestyle you had planned for her! She doesn’t need  a husband that’ll risk his life everyday and coming  home with wounds and bruises. She doesn’t need to bare children to continue the family line!” Kyojuro was now in shock by his fathers words and shinjuro just smirked and chuckled. “Heh…you didn’t think I knew what you were up to? Your just as diabolical as me… the only difference is I was Betrothed to your mother. So she had no choice in the matter.” Kyojuro gritted his teeth he hated the words his father was saying. “But seriously Kyojuro, she wasn’t even interested. She has a fiancé back at home. She’s going to be wedded soon enough. Your better off son. Besides this is the price you pay for being a slayer. And for the record I will never betrothed you to any woman knowing what you do for a living. Our family traditions are over for line of slayers. She will never bare your children to carry on our family tree.”

And that was the final straw. When he told Kyojuro that you wouldn’t bare his children. He knew he had to hurt anyone that got in his way. Finally with all of kyojuro’s strength, he was able to break his fathers grip and punch shinjuro into a tree. He chased after the carriage. You looked from far away and saw him coming. Before you could tell the rider to step on it the carriage was destroyed in just seconds. Everything flew out including you and your luggage. You fell to the ground and scraped your knee pretty bad. When you were able to lift up a bit you looked at the carnage that unfold. The carriage was destroyed the horse ran off. The man who rode the carriage was unconscious. And your luggage with your clothes in it was spread all over the ground. Kyojuro was right behind you and picked you up before you could react. You tried kicking scratching and biting him. But it didn’t make him wince once. He realized staying at his home estate wouldn’t do any good knowing his father would try to protect you from him. As he took you away senjuro called out for his brother to comeback. But it was too late he abandoned his family for you.

You both ended up back at your home. It was still messy including the blood smell you remembered when your parents were attack. You were gaining those feelings again and you were about to cry because this all seemed unreal that the man you trusted was kidnapping you and bringing you to your old home. “Why did you bring me back here?” He finally put you down on the bed. And you stared at him waiting for an answer. “Look at this place y/n…. Did you really wanted to comeback here and remember all of this?” You looked down but responded “I could make new memories. My parents may have been murder but I can still make their home stand and feel wonderful to live in again.” It took rengoku a moment. You looked at him wondering what he could be thinking based on your decision. And then, he smiled. And then….he laughed. Finally he spoke…. “You have a valid point my little blaze! I will support your decision!” He creeped up to you and said

“and I will be the most loyal…(takes off haori) most dedicated….(takes off his belt) deserving husband you will ever desire….(takes off all his clothes) he comes near your neck and kisses you passionately. You gasped in discomfort and try to push him off. But you pushing him away only pulls him in closer. He grabs both your wrists with one hand, and holds them up to restrain you from fighting back. Once he finally holds you still. You’d had no choice but to just take it and hopefully not let it get the best of you.

After he molested you. You bared his child. You had been pregnant for 8 months now. He had kept you at your parents home like you wanted. But you were not aloud to tell anyone you were there. Not the people of your village. Not your now ex fiancé. Not even shinjuro or senjuro. Because if they found where Kyojuro had hidden you, shinjuro would’ve message the master to find you and send you off to an unknown district where Kyojuro couldn’t find you for your safety. And Kyojuro would’ve been stripped from his title. But from what you understood Kyojuro still went on missions normally. He still went home to his family like nothing was wrong. And because he didn’t have you at the house, senjuro and his father assumed he let you go. And at night when everyone was sleeping he would come check up on you and sleep with you. You always had dinner ready because even though he had dinner with his family. Shinjuro wasn’t always in the mood to eat with the boys and senjuro would eat with him sometimes. So most of the time he sneaked off without anyone noticing. Your village was always atleast 2 hours away from the rengoku estate. But he didn’t mind. He was very fast and he would travel the distance just to see you. No matter how it seemed. It was always worth it to see you in his arms. You made him dinner around 10:00 pm because you knew if you didn’t he would cook and force feed you as he assume you didn’t eat all day and didn’t want anything to happen to you or the baby inside your tummy. He bought all your groceries because he didn’t want you to shop. He wanted to make sure you were in perfect health.

So for the most part you did what you thought would keep him happy. You decided to become his little wife until you could figure out what your next plan was. You cleaned your parents home, you did laundry even doing regular clothing when Kyojuro had no missions. You gardened, as it helped kept you sane during your captivity. He even forced you to practice the rengoku family tradition in staring at fire for 2 hours. As this is why the family has fiery hair and eyes. It seemed you had no choice in the matter.And When you both slept together he would always keep you and your tummy close to his arms.he would rubbed your stomach. He would hum to you. And sometimes even whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He would tell you how much he loved you and how he’ll always protect you and your child. It seemed impossible to escape, knowing he’d eventually find you. And in your fragile condition running was no option.

But then it occurred to you. You were almost due. You had to eventually tell kyo that you were in labor. And that he would take you to the butterfly mansion. So you brought it up to him. He was reading his books outside smiling to himself. You tapped his shoulder “Um….dear?” He turned his head so fast, and stared at you dead on. It was very creepy. But you had his full attention.

“Yes darling? Did you want some more kisses on your tummy?” You we’re now cringing a bit but politely you said “No dear. I was just wondering when your out on missions who’s going to care for me when I go into labor?” That smile that Kyojuro made was now a frown. He really didn’t think that through. But he took your hand and said “Do you love me?” You hesitated with that question but you went along with it and told him yes. He then asked “Do you trust me to take you to the butterfly mansion for care?” You smiled now feeling you were getting somewhere with this conversation. You nodded to him. He smiled and said “then I will stay with you until the baby comes. We’ve been together for this long Im going to let the master know about you and me being together. And father…..he’ll have to accept us together at this point! Because my plans had already been complete!” You smiled uncontrollably. And you knew why. Was Kyojuro really that stupid? No matter, this was your chance to call for help. But you decided to wait till after the baby was born.

When the time came you were in labor you were taken to the butterfly mansion immediately and shinobu was notified about you coming since kagaya had given her the news a month ago. So she had your bed already prepared. She did questioned you on when you and kyo were a thing. But you had to keep it secret atleast until the baby was born. So you played it off as saying you fell in love with him. The other hashira were shocked because kyo had never spoken of you up to this point. Tengen wanted to celebrate by drinking. Obanai seemed confused on how all this even happen, mitsuuri cheered believing love conquered all, Gyomei cried wondering if he could bless the child later,muichiro looked at the clouds, and giyu smiled just a little. Sanemi didn’t say anything but he did stare at rengoku a long time wondering why things had to be kept a secret.  Master kagaya as usual congratulated rengoku and hoped to hold the child soon as a warm welcome. Finally after a day or two. You’ve given birth to a beautiful baby boy. Shinobu handed your son to you. And you were about to speak up and tell her the truth. As you didn’t want Kyojuro to come in and see you and your son. This was your chance. To tell her everything. To finally put a stop to this madness. To finally get back at him for keeping you away from your fiancé.from telling you that you were weak. From taking advantage of you when you were forced on your parents bed. But then suddenly your son sucked on your thumb. Shinobu smiled “uh oh…seems the little guy is hungry already…He sure has an appetite like his father doesn’t he?” You looked down and said “yeah..I guess he does…” shinobu was about to walk out and said “he will make a great father. Even though I’m surprised by all of this…you both seem very happy. Your son will grow very happy and healthy. Even if his father is a slayer. It does run in the rengoku family I suppose… Congratulations I’ll go get rengoku for you.” and shinobu took her leave.

While she close the door. You stayed silent. You couldn’t believe you let her go. And that’s when you remembered what rengoku said. It was all part of his plan. He knew you wouldn’t have the heart to take your son away from his father. After all he was a good man to many. He saved many lives and he would protect you and your child from danger especially demons. What could all this mean. Were you falling in love with him? Was it just manipulation? Or did you pity the child knowing he must live a lie for a better upbringing? All you knew was that rengoku’s plan worked. He had you wrapped around his finger and he wasn’t going to let you pull away. Rengoku came in and kissed you for a job well done. The kiss seemed force but not suffocating. He just loved you so much. He held his child. And you couldn’t help but smile on how gentle he was. Mitsuuri came in next with tons of gifts because she considered herself an auntie now. And finally senjuro and shinjuro came in. After telling his father his dirty little secret. Kyojuro didn’t even cared he told him the whole truth. Because in a weird way he was like his father. He wanted someone, he was going to show how much he wanted them. Shinjuro was not happy that you were put through so much. but at this point all he saw was you as his daughter in law he can protect in case Kyojuro went too far with you. He also saw his grandson. Which he already adored.so he decided to make the best of it. Senjuro on the other hand was just happy he got to share a moment with his whole family. Nothing else matter.

When everyone left, you were with Kyojuro and he finally saw you sleep after feeling worn out all day. He held your son while you slept and finally leaned in and whispered to you “we’re going home tomorrow. To my home. Your not going back to your parents home my dear. Because you’ve made new memories now. I promise you’ll be happy. There’s nothing left back at that village for you. Don’t worry, I gave the home to a couple in need to raise their children there. So there’s no need to go back. Because someone is already filling new memories there. Your mine…and mine alone. And I’ll be…..the only memory you’ll cherish most….” He kissed you gently as you slept, fidgeting just a little from the touch of his lips. A tear slid down your cheek gently. You were asleep, but somewhere in your dreams, you heard him. You heard everything and in your dreams all you felt was this force holding you down. You were afraid to wake up knowing he will be there, everyday for the rest of your life…… rengoku smiled “rest easy my love…”

[bestworstcase]

option 1: tai’s guarding the crown of choice.

pros:

a legitimately important task that recontextualizes his ongoing decision to remain on patch as a personal sacrifice he makes for the greater good.

ozpin would pick the guy named for the god of light to be the gatekeeper of choice, huh.

if any parent in this story is meant to die, it’s him, and narratively this is the most intuitive way to do it.

cons:

realistically, what can tai do to prevent salem / cinder / summer from accessing the vault if they find it? if he’s the gatekeeper, staying on patch alone after everyone else evacuates achieves nothing except, ah, signaling to the enemy that the real vault is under signal academy. bad plan.

it means oz is breaking his promise to be honest and forthcoming, undermining his character growth for the sake of ‘surprising’ the audience with the most obvious answer.

means qrow has either been kept in the dark (see prev point) or he’s also deliberately hiding this information from his nieces after they asked him outright if he knew where tai is; this is so far afield for his character as to border on character assassination, and likewise undermines his positive growth since v7.

honestly makes both yang and ruby seem kind of stupid. they know the crown is hidden somewhere near beacon, that ozpin did something to protect it differently from the others, and that their father hasn’t left patch. ruby was sharp enough to guess that long memory might be a relic hidden in plain sight; yang is just as smart, and she knows tai had “some things” to look after on patch. are we expected to believe that “hey, is dad guarding the relic?” somehow hasn’t occurred to either of them?

tai harbors a whole lot of resentment toward ozpin, and based on qrow kicking him out of ruby’s bedroom to drip-feed her hints on where to go next, he seems to have been on the outer perimeter of the inner circle. why would oz entrust him with the relic’s safety?

glynda—ozpin’s scrupulously loyal second-in-command whose emblem is a crown and whose semblance puts her on par with a maiden—is a far more narratively plausible vault-guardian than tai, and the “sun dragon” makes a damn good red herring.

if he’s guarding the vault, he dies. sorry. but the point of putting the father of 2/4 protagonists in between the two main villains and the thing they want most (choice) is so they can kill him to get it, increasing tension and raising the emotional stakes of negotiating peace. to be clear, rwby is willing to Go There, but i think it’s an unsatisfactory way to close out the rose xiao long family arc.

option 2: survivors trapped under mountain glenn, and tai is taking point.

pros:

a genuinely important, worthwhile thing for him to be doing—even more so than guarding the crown. likely sets up a resolution for him in the vein of “you can be a good huntsman or a good father, and tai picked being a huntsman,” which is an elegant way to balance his contradictions.

gives him meaningful stuff to do in v10; for example, one stealthy huntsman with a bullhead could slip in and out of mountain glenn to get a few dozen people out at a time, and/or run supplies and messages between the kingdoms.

we get to see zwei back in action around mountain glenn :)

introduces a natural segue from playing defense in vacuo to mounting a counteroffensive against beacon as tai’s work clarifies the situation in vale.

easily the most 'heroic' direction for him without contorting the story to arbitrarily lionize tai: he’s a scout preparing the stage for the heroes to take the fight to salem, making him the good counterpart to watts.

cons:

makes no sense to keep it a secret. the emotional beats of B4 can still happen if the girls know this is what tai’s doing: instead of “do you… wonder why he’s not here? i know qrow said he’s on assignment, but what’s more important than here?” yang says “do you… wish he were here? with us? i know qrow said he’s looking for survivors, but how many of them can there really be by now? we need all the help we can get,” and ruby says “maybe we don’t have the full picture” as in maybe dad knows something we don’t and that’s why he hasn’t given up yet. the emotion is the same, and the big "they’re hiding in mountain glenn" reveal is hinted without spoiling.

leaves hanging the narrative thread of what tai has been doing since the fall of beacon, because the “some things” he was dealing with in v4 obviously wasn’t this.

option 3: tai is dead.

pros:

explains the apparent secrecy; qrow knows tai was away “on assignment” (i.e., had taken a huntsman contract that brought him out of the kingdom) at the time salem attacked vale, so he is missing but not yet presumed dead.

might reopen the mystery box of summer’s last mission through the real-deal “left on a mission and never came back” echo.

cons:

raven would know.

it’s a cheap, narratively unsatisfying twist that fails to deliver on the bread crumbs set up in v2-3 (tai starts going on missions again) and v4 (“some things”), and also undermines any serious emotional resolution with regard to yang and ruby’s complex relationships with tai.

option 4: summer’s working with salem, and tai is trying to convince her to come back.

pros:

“some things” being his presumed-dead wife who left him to join the enemy and with whom tai is now having an affair or otherwise hoping to coax back to the heroic side through the power of love whilst also keeping his mouth shut about her being a) still alive and b) a traitor is OBJECTIVELY the funniest answer.

brings forward and interrogates the way tai’s romantic grief informs the choices he makes as a parent: from hiding raven and then refusing to talk about her with yang, to shutting down when he lost summer and letting his five-year-old pick up the pieces, to discovering and then keeping summer’s secrets for the sake of some faint hope that she might finally come back to him.

cogent with the Dead (Absent) Mother / Neglectful Father / Evil Stepmother fairytale paradigm rwby deconstructs with raven, tai, and summer; the father chooses the stepmother over his children.

raises the emotional stakes of the war for summer through direct confrontation with the life she left behind, creating narrative opportunities to develop her character (is she still in love with tai? how does she feel about being his first priority, over their children? does she resent that he has her on this pedestal even now?) and apply pressure to her relationships with salem and cinder (do they know? is summer keeping her communication with him a secret, too? or is he an “asset” she’s using for salem’s benefit?).

consequently, raises the momentum of the narrative toward negotiation with salem; tai still has the coalition’s trust, however strained his personal relationships may be. summer is the obvious ambassador for salem’s side of the war, but she’s also the traitor who needs someone to vouch for her good intentions.

the secrecy needs no explanation: just as summer’s last mission was a summer secret, tai’s "assignment" is a taiyang secret and the girls know everything that oz and qrow do, because all of them have been left in the dark. raven might know, and she has the means to find if she doesn’t, but tai’s whereabouts are entangled with what raven knows about summer, so she can’t explain where tai is or why until she reveals her deep dark secrets about what happened between her and summer that night.

foreshadowing is solid: tai starts to go on "missions" again in v2, after the inner circle becomes aware that salem has infiltrated beacon and just before the breach downtown. when ruby visits summer’s grave in v3, she says "[dad] told me he’s going to be on some mission soon! i think he misses adventuring with you." he’s got to "look after some things" (but he isn’t talking about yang, because he stays home after she leaves). and then with B4 we have ruby echoing what the blacksmith taught her about summer in relation to tai, "maybe we don’t have the full picture?"

juicy

cons:

???

dependent on the unconfirmed theory that summer is working for salem as herself, not some unrecognizable enslaved monster, but i am as confident in that as i was about salem going to vale next and we all know how that turned out :)

taking their mom was not enough salem had to go for the full set APPARENTLY

option 5: secret fifth thing

pros:

???

cons:

???

[drysaladandketchup]

hi! sorry you can absolutely delete this if u don’t feel like answering or anything cause this is kind of vent-y (?) and isn’t like… actually a question but i am SO annoyed at some hockey fans and how they decide to treat leon. i am german and i live in america and the way leon gets treated in fanfictions and hockey discourse gives me serious flashbacks on how i am treated here. ik leon speaks perfect english but i wish people remembered that that’s still his second!!! language!!! it’s not his native language!!! sometimes he will come across differently then he actually is!!! his words will get twisted and he will be misunderstood because it’s not his native language!!!! every time he’s described as pissy and arrogant and rude (in a genuinely rude way) a vulnerable german kid living in america dies… 😔😔😔 and then the mattdrai fanfictions (admittedly i have not read that many because im just a not a big fan of the pairing but it was one of the main ships that got me into the fandom) i just hate that he seems to be so villainized (?). i might be biased (i am) lol but i am soo sick of it rrrr sorry sorry this got way too long. you just spoke about it before so i felt like you might understand where i'm coming from. peace

Oh my dear anon, people continuing to personify Leon as arrogant, emotionless, and rude is becoming my villain origin story. I'm happy to vent alongside you. I have talked about this before, and it does still bother me when I see it. Because I'm biased too. I love this guy haha.

Just for context, I'm Canadian, born and raised, and as of yet haven't lived in another country where I've had to fluently speak a second language or adjust to a culture I was not raised with. So I am by no means someone who can speak on that experience. But I'm sorry you've faced that kind of judgment.

I've written my thoughts on this subject before, here and here, so I'll try not to rehash everything I've said in the past. But as you say anon, I do think Leon is woefully misunderstood. He himself has said he thinks he's misunderstood, and that he comes off as too direct at times, that it's, 'probably the German in me.' He speaks English perfectly well, very fluently, and he's been living in Canada so long it would be weirder if he wasn't culturally affected and adjusted in some way. But he's still very much German; socially, culturally, linguistically. You don't just lose one entirely just because you've been exposed to and entrenched in another.

Sometimes he says things that can come off differently in English than probably intended, or at least that are easily misinterpreted by a North American audience, but that's a far cry from being 'pissy', as he's been branded by fans and media alike (also as an aside even people speaking their first language get their words mixed up and twisted sometimes, so I think we should just cut everyone some more slack when speaking maybe?).

And look, admittedly I've called him bitchy at times in my tags, as a joke, because yeah like literally any other person on earth, sometimes he says or does something that is snarky or poking fun or off-brand humour. But that's not inherently bad, nor is it inherently German. That's just part of his personality, a singular behaviour in a singular moment. I don't genuinely think he's an angry or aggressive or mean person. I think he's literally just a human being with multitudes.

His occasional tone of voice or his sometimes blunt way of speaking or his sarcastic sense of humour--things that could at least in part be because of his being German but are also not at all exclusive to or ubiquitous among Germans--is why some people make him out to be this aggressive or mean-spirited person, but like... obviously that is not only not true if you pay even an ounce of attention to him beyond a few choice soundbites and clips, but it's also insulting in general. As you say, people assuming the worst of you simply because of differences in communication or expression is the farthest thing from okay. Insinuating that he's brutish or emotionless or rude because he's German is obviously bigoted. It's xenophobic. Not to mention, as you said, it just makes it that much harder for other Germans to approach this audience without fearing they'll be judged the same way.

Now, obviously I don't know the guy personally, I only know what of him is public, but he seems like the farthest thing from rude or standoffish or arrogant. He really isn't any different from any other player (skills not withstanding), but for some reason he doesn't seem to get the same leeway between his on-ice persona and his off-ice persona, or from one instance to the next. For some reason, he's held under this microscope and reduced to his 'worst' moments more than a lot of other players I've seen. He does anything without a smile on his face or makes even one joke or comment that's less than flattering (or falls flat due to language differences), he's immediately made out to be a bad guy.

And to touch on mattdrai, which I do love a lot--and it's okay if it's not something you're into anon, you don't have to justify what you do or don't like :)-- I've said before that I think Matthew and Leon aren't always written very true to life. And I totally agree with you that the issue I sometimes see with Leon's characterization is that he is written like he's arrogant and lacking in emotion (at least outwardly), sometimes even acting like some overly-aggressive bully, and that's just so far from the reality that we know. And yes, some writers, like some fans, actively point to the fact that he's German to explain that. As if that's just how all Germans are, by nature of being German. Which, as I said and as you know anon, is so many kinds of wrong and horrible.

Yes yes he does dumb things on the ice sometimes and he and Matthew (and others) have exchanged shoves and whacks and chirps over the years. But again, if folks watched literally anything with Leon outside of those moments, they'd know that those are incidents, not his whole personality. I'm not over here pretending like he's never done anything wrong or questionable or stupid, but who hasn't? He's not a villain for that. Just like he's not perfect. We're all human.

Oof sorry anon this response got away from me a bit lol. Sorry if this got a little off topic, but I am nothing if not someone who rants and rambles. This topic drives me nuts; I can only imagine how upsetting and frustrating it is for you, as a German living in America.

But my ask box is always open for venting <3

[maleyanderecafe]

My Gently Raised Beast (Webcomic)

Created by: Yeoseulki, Early Flower

Genre: Fantasy/Romance

This webcomic is actually really good and I enjoyed reading it. The yandere and the female lead are a big power couple in this one and their relationship feels really genuine. The yandere isn't as extreme as other ones, but fits more into the protective yandere type, as he's always looking out for and caring for the female lead, and the female lead is pretty well written as well. As of writing this, there are 90 chapters and it feels like it will be finished fairly soon.

The story starts out with the king declaring that he's found his missing daughter, before cutting to the daughter, Blondina (yeah, that's her name) being abused at an inn. She is saved and brought into the king's palace to be raised as a princess, though she is heavily ridiculed by her step siblings, Lart and Adellai for being a half blood. She meets and saves and black cat named Anon, who reveals himself to be a Divine Black Panther, a descendent of one of the great gods. She meets her maid, Lucy and becomes friends with her. As the story goes on Lart starts to develop feelings for Lucy and slowly becomes more understanding and befriending Blondina, while Adellai continues to hate her for taking everything away from her. Wanting her father's approval, Adellai attempts to take over the Divine beasts by finding the descendent of one of the god's ancestor, a man with golden hair and eyes who has the ability to control divine beast, while Blondina's love and friendship with Amon leads to conducting a peace treaty between them. Adellai attempts to take Blondina's life in a series of accidents, which leads to also killing two helpers to prevent them from spilling any information. We learn slowly that Blondina and Amon are actually reincarnations of the gods, and that the descendent was a god as well. While the god that eventually became the Blondina wanted to become a human, the golden eyed ancestor wished to retain his power as a god, and killed Amon to prevent her from reincarnating (which failed anyways). The descendent has his body taken over by the god and attempts to storm the castle, though with the help of everyone, they are able to stop him. Blondina almost dies in the process and Amon sacrifices his power, thus erasing his memories to save her. The last couple of chapters have Blondina pregnant and attempting to rekindle her relationship with Amon.

The progress of this story is actually very well written and paced. It's really nice to see Blondina (or Briddy) and Amon slowly get close together and the progression feels rather natural, so at the end, when the two are fighting to protect each other, it feels natural. I also just like how Briddy is able to slowly build up friends and essentially drag various characters into redemption arcs including her brother Lart and even to some extent her father, the king. The clash between seizing control of the beasts and forming a treaty with them pushes them back and forth, making the story suspenseful in how Adellai will try to overthrow the beasts. I also think that Amon and Briddy are a very strong power couple, with Amon being king of the divine beasts and Briddy having strong power in the kingdom, not only because of status but her unwavering personality as well. They really do make a very good team.

Briddy as a character starts out rather uncertain and in a very bad position of being a half blood and having to adjust to her life there (not even knowing how to read, if I recall properly), but I think one of the strengths that Briddy has is just how she's able to befriend people. She is a kind person, but she also will put her foot down if their friends are getting hurt or if she feels she needs to. I think one of my favorite scenes is Briddy going back to the inn where she was abused and buying the inn for Lucy, having to face her abusers, which is a very difficult thing to do. She is able to use her powers in other ways and befriend others, but I really do like her development as the story goes on.

Amon on the other hand starts from a tsundere style character to a more protective one as time goes on. I still would categorize him as light since he doesn't do anything too drastic that's outside of protecting Briddy. There are some good moments such as threatening to kill Adellai after Briddy almost died, attacking one of the innkeepers that attempted to kill Briddy in her sleep and of course sacrificing his memory just to save her. He initially stays a lot in his animal form but as time goes on he shows more of his human side and man, am really happy to see another dark skinned yandere boy. I just think having variety is pretty neat and I just have a soft spot for darker skinned boys. In any case, he is generally fairly protective over Briddy just as she is for him.

As for the other characters, I really liked them as well. I liked Adellai's plot to find the ancestor so she could take over, and Lucy and Lart's relationship. Especially Lart's general progression in changing sides- attempting to be king so he can marry Lucy. The other side characters are pretty impressive. The art looks really nice as well, and the animals don't look too jarring to look at (as some webcomic artist uh... sometimes can struggle with drawing animals, I suppose).

Overall, I really like the story and I think it should be read for the story first and the yandere second. Considering that he is the male lead though, you will see him often and watch as he and Briddy's relationship grows.

[pomplalamoose]

I wonder how Luke would react to the reader wanting kids..

Hiii anon, thanks for the ask!🩵

I think his reaction would depend heavily on the situation the two of you are in, but because I wanted to make this really wholesome, all of these take place during the best possible time ever.

I hope this is in your interest as well :)

• I think I've mentioned before that Luke really likes kids and would eventually approach you about whether you would like some of your own 

• (because he definitely would like that)

• however if you were to bring up the topic on your own accord he'd be over the moon

• I can imagine it's been a secret wish of his to raise a child (or several) with you 

• but because he doesn't want to make you feel any kind of pressure, he wouldn't have brought it up himself for a long time 

• but now that you're outright saying that you want to have a child with him, he's overjoyed 

• you know how animals sometimes get the zoomies? 

• Luke gets the zoomies 

• he won't shut up about it

• he's laughing and spinning you around 

• he can't stop hugging and kissing you 

• I think he'd need a second to calm down because of how excited he is

• not even you were aware he wanted this so much and his reaction is truly endearing to watch 

• it's important to note that this isn't just about becoming a father though 

• a big reason is mostly the fact that you trust him enough to embarge on this journey with him 

• he feels like the luckiest man in the whole galaxy and he's practically bursting with it 

• he wants to tell everyone he knows immediately 

• your revelation brings out the boy Luke was before he left Tatooine

• it's like he kept that part of himself hidden away and suddenly, it comes bubbling to the surface again 

• (you are momentarily thrown, where did your calm and collected Jedi master go??)

• I can totally see him producing a list of potential baby names on the spot

• you'll eventually learn he already had it lying around for some time and he's so happy to finally show it to you 

• it's a big list too and you have no idea how he came up with SO MUCH 

• eventually he will relax

• but as soon as he's able to think straight again, he wants to start planning 

• like, right now 

• like, what do you mean "there is still time"???

• this is important!!!!

• (you realize that he, in fact, did not calm down)

• and yet, for his peace of mind (and yours), you go along with it

• you discuss whether you wish to adopt or if you'd like to carry out the child on your own 

• Luke is very adamant on you making this decision for yourself; it's your body and he knows the toll a pregnancy can take 

• he will be happy with either choice 

• but if you decide you want to become pregnant that man will be stressed 

• in a good way too but mostly he's freaking out 

• he'll worry about it more than you

• under no circumstances does he want you to be uncomfortable

• but he also knows that's near impossible so I can totally see him wanting to read every possible file/text/etc. he can find on the topic to be prepared for everything 

• (or as prepared as you can be for a partner that's pregnant for the first time)

• like I genuinely believe he would want to make your well-being his full time job 

• because of this (he is a self aware king after all) he wants to be able to take off a year or so from his duties to be able to care for you and the baby 

• obviously that won't work with all the responsibilities he currently has 

• so even more planning will go into preparing everyone and everything for the eventuality of him disappearing as soon as you realize that the child is on its way

• (at this point you beg him to calm down and go meditate; "LUKE I'm not even pregnant yet!!!")

• if you are not already living together, he will want to arrange that as fast as possible 

• he'd also want to discuss how you'd go about your daily routines and chores once the baby is there 

• he wants to compare notes about parenting and raising the child to find out which points you agree or disagree on

• yes, he absolutely has these notes 

• (you don't, but he doesn't need to know)

• "Oh Force maybe we'll need a babysitter too. Would you let Han in the vicinity of our kid?"

• in the end you decide to drag him to bed 

• because all his planning and scheming will be for nothing if he doesn't put in the physical work as well

• he's very enthusiastic about your suggestion

• so much, in fact, that you won't be leaving the bed anytime soon 

• possibly some new preferences are discovered 

• (I've seen lots of posts about Luke with a breeding kink and while I'm not one hundred percent sure whether he'd actually develope one, I still think he'd want to make sure his seed takes)

[princessmo]

okay i did it. ranking beavis and butthead main/recurring characters from most to least homophobic (under the cut)

MOST

todd. you know he leans out the window and calls people fags but goes home and jacks it to porn of two straight women kissing

mcvicker. gay people gross him out but he keeps his mouth shut bc he’d lose his two best teachers if he said anything

stewart’s parents. they won’t outright say anything but they’re def visibly uncomfortable and mrs. stevenson says shit like “i don’t think those sort of relations are family-friendly”

tom anderson. touched upon this earlier; he’s kind of uncomfortable but he doesn’t really care so long as like, the gay people in question are red-blooded taxpaying american citizens. asks things like “so who’s the woman?” in that way where you can tell he’s uncomfortable and trying to lighten the mood

stewart. he’s cishet and his parents raised him to be homophobic but all his friends are lgbt and he’s trying SO hard to be Better. asks things like “so who’s the woman” but genuinely. he does really want to be a good ally he just kinda sucks at it

NOTE: the rest of these characters are lgbt in some capacity. to me. in my world

butthead. he’s bi but has SO much internalized homophobia and makes fun of other gay guys for being “wussies”

daria. lesbian and in a relationship with jane after she moves to lawndale, but i think she gets annoyed with stereotypical gay men. she just wants everyone to shut up forever so she can read kafka while jane paints something 5 feet away

buzzcut. i used to hc him as bi w/ a preference for guys but i think i’m just gonna make him homogay. has soooo much internalized homophobia it’s crazy, but he’s working on it. if he catches anyone being homophobic they’re DEAD it is OVER for them. and he’s SOOOOO in love with his malewife

earl. ik this one’s outta left field but i kinda love him and wish he was featured more. i think he’s bi w/a preference for guys. i remember darren said he would idolize rob halford and he was SO right; he absolutely would. king you don’t need to be in todd’s gang you’re too good for him

beavis. he’s homo gay to me i think he just goes along with butthead liking chicks bc he likes butthead. if butthead does something that means it’s cool and he wants to be cool too. i don’t think he feels shame over it he’s just kinda clueless

cassandra. UNDERRATED QUEEN. she literally, in canon, says the woman she admires most is KD lang. i think she’s bi w/ a preference for women. president of highland high’s GSA

ok i know this will surprise exactly no one but. DAVID MF VAN DRIESSEN. GAY GAY HOMOSEXUAL GAY OF ALL TIME. he’s married to buzzcut and he’s the faculty member in charge of the school’s GSA. he was canonically singing about lesbian seagulls in 1996. guy who genuinely respects women too much to be attracted to them in a sexual/romantic way. he's THEE coming out teacher. i think beavis, butthead, cassandra, daria, and earl have all come out to him; gay kids feel comfortable confiding in him and he would not tell their parents. homo king of all time i love you

LEAST

ok if i forgot anyone or you want my opinion on a character feel free to say something. peacing love on planet earf

[sophia-sol]

Under Fortunate Stars, by Ren Hutchings

A timey wimey book about spaceships! Aww yeah. Thank you @ryfkah for reviewing it last year, so that I heard about it!

In this book: a bunch of people get stuck all together on one spaceship in a rift in space separated from the two time periods the people are from. Each has different histories, perspectives, motivations, and goals. Most of them don't like or trust each other or even want to work together, multiple of them have fraught histories with each other, and I was rooting for ALL of them.

One group of people is the ragtag crew of 5 aboard a ramshackle smuggling ship called the Jonah from the middle of a massive war between humans and an alien species. Of those five, three are the actual crew, one is a paying passenger trying to escape authorities, and one tried to hijack the ship.

The other group of people are paid employees on a major corporate-owned research vessel from a time 150 years into the future, the war a distant memory except for the legends of the Fortunate Five, the crew of a small spaceship called the Jonah who singlehandedly brought about peace and ended the war. But the people in this Jonah that the corporate vessel found with them in the rift don't match what they know about the Fortunate Five.

What's going on with the rift? Who are the crew of the Jonah? Is there any way for them all to make it back to their own times safely? Will this whole encounter change history and result in humans losing the war after all?

All of this was extremely fun, and I loved all the different characters, and seeing their backstories as they got slowly doled out to the reader over the course of the book. And the ending was so satisfying, and I definitely got emotional.

And I particularly enjoyed that one of the most important relationships the book is investigating is the complicated friendship between two men. Yes! Friendship IS so important! And learning how to be a better friend!!

I did have a couple complaints though, which I'll put behind a spoiler cut.

Ok first of all, multiple quotes on the back of the book refer to it as a "mystery" and it just doesn't seem that mysterious to me? But the book did seem like it was set up to be mysterious!

See, it felt obvious to me from the very beginning that what was happening wasn't all of them changing history, it was them making history happen exactly as it had happened the first time. But no, almost the entire time, everyone's like "all these things that are so different from how we always understood the Jonah's history, how concerning, really hoping we aren't breaking history as we know it!!"

I just wish that SOMEBODY had brought up the possibility of this being how history actually had happened, even just to be immediately shut down as ridiculous. But no, it isn't even raised as a thinkable interpretation until very nearly the end, in a way that makes it feel to me like the reader isn't supposed to be thinking of it as a possibility either. So then instead of feeling like I was in on a secret with the narrative, I felt like I was being condescended to by the narrative, almost.

Second….I spent an enormous portion of the book genuinely wondering if this was going to turn out to be the kind of sff book where Everyone Is Het. One character being queer is made clear in the back half of the book, thank goodness, but honestly the vibe throughout continued to be pretty het-flavoured in terms of the narrative focus tbh. Which like, sure whatever fine, but I do like a little more exuberantly expansive queerness in my specfic these days.

Also the backstory for one of the main male characters involves a fridged female love interest. His backstory would still have been personally tragic for him if she'd stayed alive and simply left him for good! The fridging felt unnecessary, and tbh felt honestly to me like it lessened the, like, personal responsibility sense of having lost her because of his bad decisions.

Three characters actually had a Dead Important Person in their backstory. Dafnë the fridged love interest, a dead brother, and a dead female student. So at least not all of them are female; that's something. But still! It kinda bugged me.

Third, Shaan felt to me like she came across as way too young for the age that she had to be in the story. She's someone who went through some intensive schooling, became a teacher, taught a number of students, had her Traumatic Loss experience, and is 6 years out now from that experience. Like she must be 30 at least, I would think! But I spent most of the book convinced she was much younger than any of the other characters, until enough of her backstory was revealed that I realized what her age must be. It just felt jarring to me. And maybe that's just about the way she personally responded to her trauma, but that's not really how it came across to me in the writing. Unless I missed something here, maybe?

Finally, of the Fortunate Five, I felt like we spent almost no time really with either Jaxong or Kva-Sova, and I thought they were both super interesting and wanted to know more! Tell me more about illegal peace activists! Tell me more about smart science women! Tell me more about the fashion for body mods!

Anyway, despite the complaints, I did still thoroughly enjoy the book for what it was doing, and I'm glad I read it. I am always here for explorations of what history means via the trope of time travel, especially when it's about history that isn't actually real life earth history!

[the-lark-ascending69]

Just finished reading Rebel Robin. I liked it for the most part, it has a lot of cool Robin Lore, but I feel it can be a bit inconsistent with other Robin Lore from the podcast and the show (both of which I feel are a lot more syncronized with each other than the book is). I feel like it ends on a way too optimistic note, in which Robin is happy as a rebellious loner, fully honest with herself and the world and knowing it's just a matter of time until she finds her people, while show Robin talks about secretly wanting to be normal and accepted, and believing no one would want to be close to her if they knew her secret. Podcast Robin, while still in a far earlier stage of teenage Robin angst, says the universe is telling her she's not supposed to have friends and that there's something rotten inside of her. Even by the end of the podcast, her conclussion is that she needs to do everything in her power to survive inside the system, even if that includes lying and cheating. Podcast Robin reaches the conclussion that blackmail is a valid way to fight for survival, which I think can be fitting with Show Robin, who was never pushed to that extreme but who was still clearly cynical about people. Book Robin is just too at peace, as if she got everything figured out. She's confident in ways show Robin and Podcast Robin aren't. I can see 15 years old Podcast Robin growing into 17 years old Show Robin, but I can't see Book Robin growing into Show Robin. Otherwise it would be like she went two years backwards in the span of two days because... she was kidnapped by russian soldiers? I don't know if that's the kind of thing that makes you want to be "normal and accepted".

I feel like book Robin wasn't lonely enough. She had like two best friends, danced with a girl at prom in front of everyone else... of course she's going to be confident. Of course she's not going to feel the need to be "normal and accepted". Book Robin abandons the idea of "camouflage" by the end in a way that podcast Robin doesn't, which is more consistent with show Robin. Show Robin isn't all that confident. She doesn't genuinely "not care", she just tells herself she doesn't.

Compare to:

Does this sound like Robin "my whole life has been one big error" Buckley? It sounds like she should be wayyyy past that! It sounds like the order of these events should be switched.

I have some thinking to do about this book. I thought it was fine, I liked the Robin Lore that didn't contradict itself, which is most of it tbh. Robin will quote Nietzche off the top of her head and I'll think "yeah, that makes sense". She knows from memory the etymology of random words and will talk about that during a discussion as if it were an actual argument. Robin also seems prone, in both the book and the podcast, to project her own feelings on other people (namely Barb and Tammy), which isn't something we see in the show (she IS older and more mature there), but it's not contradictory either. I liked her family, though I wish we'd got a bit more development about them. Near the beginning of the book, Robin asks her mom how come their family ended up in Hawkins, and her mom changed the topic, so I assumed there was some kind of emotional mother-daughter talk later in the book about how they wanted a safe and stable place to raise their daughter or something, but the talk never came. I liked Milton and Kate, especially Milton. Dash is a piece of shit. Mr. Hauser is good but he's better in the podcast.

I can't help to go back to the podcast, agh! It just feels so much more inspired. If i had to name the one piece of media that I think treated Robin's character with the most love and passion, it would be the podcast, no questions asked. It treats her with more love than the show, even, and I love show Robin, but the podcast is just... special. Podcast Robin got a better development in 6 episodes than book Robin did in 300 pages imo.

I know the book and podcast are both like semi-canon, but I will choose to consider the podcast to be above the book in terms of canon density. I wouldn't want to ignore the book because it provides interesting information on Robin's family, her plans to go to Europe, her friends and her feelings for Tammy Thompson, and if you want to write some very canon-accurate fanfic depiction of Robin, the book will certainly be helpful. Plus, it's just a good read, a good coming of age story. I do recommend it. But in areas where it contradicts the podcast, I would priorize the podcast as more strictly canon, not only because I think it's of higher quality (which I do), but because it's more aligned with show canon Robin.

Anyway, go listen to Surviving Hawkins, it's free on YouTube and Spotify I think, and it's amazing.

[thegravityblog]

An open letter to you.

Hi, I know you’re enjoying my pain. I know you’re loving it. I know you’re feeling so validated and satisfied. But you know what, I still wish you well. I can never be you but I hope someday, you’ll be me. I wonder sometimes, what do you get by playing with people?  What did I do to you? Just caught you lying, confronted and called you out? That’s the day, I have become your enemy, right? You don’t like to be called out on your mistakes, and that’s fine, that’s you. But if someone genuinely cares about you, they will point it out so I did. I acknowledge my mistakes that I spoke foul about you, but it wasn’t intentional. That’s what you never tried to understand. I really wanted us. I really wanted the best for you, but if you yourself don’t want it, I really cannot help. I did whatever I could beyond my capabilities back then, but nothing was ever enough for you. Blame me for everything, but what about all the lies you were telling me since the beginning? What about all the other people you were seeing behind my back? What about you manipulating me, planting that seed of doubt and later on blaming me on my perspectives? How can you live a life like that? Why everything is so transactional for you? Didn’t it bother you even a bit, when you were in my arms, looking in my eyes, telling me how much you love me but then sleeping with someone else? How did your consciousness allow you? You know how? Because you are morally flawed. You are living off of shooting pornography, You never did things like that, remember? Nope. You’ll do anything and everything for money. You’ll go to all extents to feel validated and seek attention even from shooting pornography. What kind of life are you living? Whenever I see you, you are wrapped up with some guy. How many bodies do you want to walk over you, to feel satisfied? Are you so weak? Are you an attention whore? I will say all this darling because I judge people on their actions, and what I see is you sleeping with anyone just to feel validated. How empty are you dear? Is your childhood trauma still bothering you so much that you have nothing substantial? I wish you get all the attention in this world, but remember nothing can ever make you happy because you’re on a quest to shallowness. I haven’t seen a pinch of regret on your face, that’s how shameless you are. You’re cheating on everyone. Family, friends, husband, partner. What are you getting? I assume you yourself don’t know the answer.  I still care for you, but I am now withdrawing myself. I am done with your nasty manipulative games and I am done with all the pain you gave me. I know you will never get your salvation due to the trauma instilled within you but I hope someday you will get the peace you are looking for by fucking any dick that comes your way. I pity on your father, that he couldn’t even raise her daughter properly. He raised a broken approval seeking, immoral slut. Yes baby, you’re nothing but a slut. Anyone can fuck u until they are serving some purpose in your life. You feel sated by people jerking off seeing your videos. Do you want your daughter to be like you? That would be the nastiest thing that ever will ever happen to someone. I pray you be blessed with a daughter and she turns out to be like you. That day we’ll see how you feel. You will never hear back from me again. Go suck a dick and get some validation. And speak shit about people who put everything on line to make u happy. Goodbye

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

I have a request! So Reader is curious about what Zhongli was like during the Archon war so Zhongli gives them a dream (With consent of course) where they meet Morax and reader gets fucked by him. Also Zhongli is watching too. If he manifests in the dream to join in or not is up to you.

This was the hardest fic I wrote so far because I had to think if I'd go for two dicks Zhongli or not. So anon, and everyone else, please suspend your disbelief in this fic. Yeah 4 cocks might be too much for one hole but listen as the new adage says "If there's a hole, there's a way!"

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

Summary: A simple question borne out of curiosity leads you to experience a side of Zhongli that no historian had never even thought of.

It started from an innocuous question, one borne from curiosity and genuine desire to know more about him.

“What were you like, during the Archon Wars?” You had asked, the midday sun shining brightly through the bamboo leaves on the roads of Qingce.

Your hair fluttered in the soft winds, your silver bell tinkling with each step you took as it fluttered from the sides of your sash.

“Unpleasant” He had answered after a beat, he stopped observing you and looked forward, blankly staring at the road as he remembered the way he was.

Just as cold and as unfeeling as the rocks he had come from.

“Hmmm…”

Your curious tone became on the receiving end of his inquisitive look. You smiled at him, gentle and just shy of being embarrassed, “I think, you would have no patience for my usual antics. Had you been unfortunate enough to have met me then.”

“Perhaps,” Zhongli agreed but silently he thought, ‘I would have still come to like you.’

You laughed at his agreement, oblivious to his silent thoughts, “Ah~ but I feel like I would have so much fun teasing the version of you during the Archon Wars.”

“I bet you were so uptight during that time, like a stick in the mud!” You continued in playful banter, “I’d probably be the first person who’d get you so mad you’d be red in the face!”

Zhongli found amusement in the triumphant tone you held, your tone just as excited as it was when sharing theories with Miss Alice. Zhongli found comfort in that, the knowledge that even at his most scariest, and most unpleasant point in his life, you would be fond of him.

“Zhongli, do you think that if we met back then we’d be as close as we are now?” You asked him, “personally, I think that we wouldn’t be. I don’t think I would have been able to survive the aftermath of the Archon Wars.”

Zhongli paused in his walking, his joy washed away in your rationality.

“What makes you so sure of it?” He asked, ‘I would have protected you.’

You gave him a soft smile, “We wouldn’t have gotten along, I would probably punch you in the face. And then you’d get mad for the disrespect.”

Your laughter rang in his ears, as if mocking his sentiments even if he knew that your words held a modicum of truth in it. Back then, he had no qualms on dirtying his hands, no matter how gentle he tried to be, he never wavered in face of difficult decisions, always choosing the best option that would lead to victory.

How would he have reacted to you, who fought and found answers beyond what was given, always seeking a third option that would ensure a happy end. You were not meant for war, your ideals and kindness would have no place in those cruel times.

Even so, Zhongli wanted to prove you wrong.

“Then, shall we place a bet?”

“A bet?” You asked, eyes glinting in anticipation of a boon.

“Yes. I shall give you a dream, of sorts, that can transcend through time.”

“Ooooh~! Another one of those adepti arts, I presume?”

“Yes. I would let you meet the version of me before the height of the Archon Wars” Zhongli began to explain, “then if we manage to be as close as we are now, I have won the bet. If that version of me ends up loathing you, I acquiesce to your belief.”

“And what do I get if I win?” You asked.

“Whatever you wish for” He answered, eyes shining bright like cor lapis.

“Deal.”

--

The golden leaves of the gingko trees fluttered as it fell down to the ground. Morax sat on one of the edges on the numerous outcrops of Qingyun Peak. It was a rare moment of peace, there was no imminent danger that needed to be quelled. Liyue was in momentary peace. He sighed and let himself relax, enjoying the solitude up until he heard the soft sound of someone landing nearby.

In an instant he appeared before a human who wore strange clothing. He pointed his spear at them, “Speak, why do you trespass on the grounds of the Adepti?”

“Huh?” You blinked at him, slowly getting up as you patted the grass and dust off your clothes, “Damn, Zhongli wasn’t really kidding when he said you were too wounded up.”

Morax frowned at your impudence, “Mortal, that is not the way to speak to the Prime Adep-”

You raised your arm towards him, interrupting him as you offered, “Osmanthus wine! I’ll share it with you if you don’t get mad at me!”

Your wide smile, warm and inviting made him uneasy. An unknown feeling bursting in his chest as he stared into glinting eyes.

“Impudent” He said before moving to capture you and bring you down the mountain.

Despite moving at a speed impossible for a human to match, you had effortlessly evaded his hands. Your laughter rang loudly in the open field, teasing and amused. Zhongli frowned and quickly gave chase and yet you eluded him, teasing him by purposely letting him almost grab the hem of your sleeves only to speed up at the last possible second before appearing far away from him in another direction.

Frustration building up, Zhongli decided to use his geo to block your path, slowly studying your moves so as to anticipate where you would move. It went on and on, erecting stone steeles to block your path until you were caged and nowhere to run.

“Uwaa~” You panted, a mild tone of complaint seeping into your voice“How come you can’t even have tenderhearted feelings for this weak human?”

Morax frowned at your blatant lies, “No human would be able to match the speed and energy of an adepti the way you do.”

You gave him an amused smile, sweat dripping down your face, “That you’ve met. Have you ever made it out of Liyue?”

Morax didn’t answer, stony gaze boring down on you.

“Aiya~ what a tough crowd…” You trailed off and yet the smile on your face never wavered, “but if you keep up such an attitude towards me~ I’ll win the bet and have an adepti answer my whim~”

“What tricks have you done, mortal!” Morax pointed his spear at your throat.

Your smug look never wavered, “Ahahaha, I did no tricks Lord Adeptus~”

“Lies!” He denounced, “What sort of charm did you use to seduce one of my own?!”

“Seduce?” You blinked at him owlishly before a wide grin broke out on your face, “Oh, oh! You think I’m seductive?”

You pushed his spear away, sauntered to him, pressing your chest close to his, arms wrapping on his neck. With a voice dripping in honey and seduction, you whispered in his ear, “Does Lord Adeptus find me pleasing to his taste? Would you like to have a taste of me?”

Your lips moved to his exposed thoat, kissing the apple of it. Morax felt some sort of stirring within him, convinced that you had placed him in a trap, he pushed you off unconsciously gentle with his grip, “What sort of spell have you casted?!”

Your laughter, soft and oddly fond, made him uncomfortable. A feeling that he could not name settling in his bones. His chest was warm as he stared on the way the soft afternoon light shone on you, casting you in warm orange light as you laughed uncontrollably.

“No spell, just utterly charming in your eyes” You answered, fluttering your eyelids and gracing him with a smile he often found among the numerous brothels on Chihu Rock.

“Shameless!” He admonished as he took out a talisman and withit binded you.

“Oh~ How kinky~” You said with amusement as if you felt no danger.

‘Foolish mortal’ Morax thought privately as he pulled you along to begin the trek down the mountain only to stumble upon your next words.

“Does Lord Adeptus plan to have his wicked way with me then? Bring me somewhere secluded and show me the might of his jade pillar?”

“You! You! You!” Morax found himself at loss for words.

“Adepti would never stoop to such a barbaric act!”

“Oh” Your disappointed voice only served to confuse him, until you uttered your next accursed words, “I wouldn’t have minded if it was you~”

A wink sent his way accompanied by the odd motion of your lips had his face beet red. It was the first time he had ever suffered such a loss. Embarrassment gave way to anger when he heard your laughter, his hand moved to curse you until another voice stopped his movements.

“Must you resort to such means, to win our bet?”

Your smile brightened up as you saw Zhongli walk in the clearing, wearing his archon clothes. His hair swayed in the wind, gentle smile plastered on his face despite the chiding tone of his voice.

“But the appeal of having you indebted to me was too much to resist!” You answered with a jovial grin that made Morax pause.

“More of you?” Morax asked with great annoyance until he realized how much similarity he had shared with the new “guest”.

A split second was all it took before you found yourself encased in Zhongli’s familiar arms, his strong shield surrounding you both as Morax’ vortex vanquisher hit the shield. You blinked, slightly rattled but still relatively calm as if you weren’t just about to be skewered by the Lord of Geo.

“Are you alright?” Zhongli asked, concern evident but you remained staring at Morax.

“Zhongli~ I’m starting to understand why you think I’d get along with this version of you!”

You grinned, eyes no longer glinting with plastic curiosity. Zhongli sighed and resigned to whatever consequence would be the outcome of your action.

It took several terse talks between Zhongli and Morax to draft an acceptable contract between the two of you and Morax. All of it just to accompany Morax in his day to day life. Zhongli found himself frequently being on the receiving end of a spear, or in some cases a glower from the amount of times you had teased his stubborn and unpleasant past self.

However, Zhongli could not deny that this version of him was growing fond of you, soft even, with the way Morax would occasionally gently steer you away from the geo vishaps or the rare times he would bring you to Azhdaha to play with the large geo dragon.

Though this soft moment would always, almost, be followed by your teasing. Zhongli wasn’t even spared from your flirtatious remarks though he did have the advantage of knowing you longer, thus he was able to render you speechless more often than not when compared to Morax. But from the past few days, Zhongli could see how Morax was learning and he knew that it would only be a matter of time before you would be rendered speechless by Morax as well.

Thus, the three of you spent the days in simple fun, getting to know each other, sharing battles and each moment Zhongli spent observing how you acted with Morax brought him some sort of warmth, happiness at your acceptance and your rationality during such troubled times. It was true that your kindness would not have survived but Zhongli could see that if you truly had lived in this time, your kindness would have just taken another form, adapting and yet remaining all the same.

You were a safe haven, for him, for Morax, and for those who met you in this troubled times. A human who stubbornly remained kind, who audaciously declared that even Celestia could be wrong. This side of you that remained hidden in the present times, flourished like a well cared for silk flower.

Therefore, it really should not have surprised him to see Morax begin courting you, not that you noticed, and yet it did. Surprise and discontent warring inside him, both claiming that you were his and one discrediting his former self. He figured that the same thing was most likely happening with Morax, from the dangerous glint in the other’s eye when he drew close to you or held you by the waist.

--

Somewhere between teasing Morax and having Zhongli recount his past through the various strolls you took in Liyue Harbor, you noticed the almost possessive way Morax would act towards you, the barely kept aggressiveness directed to Zhongli whenever he would care for you or the occasional soft growls towards threats you didn’t even notice.

It was fascinating to watch him, and you made no secret of it. So a part of you couldn’t help but blame yourself for provoking a dragon. Really, what sort of person says, “I can take you” to a god of war?

“Me, apparently” You thought with great regret and annoyance as you found yourself benign subjected to the intense bedroom look of Morax.

“Can you?” Morax purred, eyes glinting with something primal and you can’t help but be entranced.

You have always been drawn to beautiful and dangerous things.

In contrast to his predator smile, his kiss was gentle but no less passionate than your previous lovers. Morax’ grip on your body was firm but gentle, bringing you close to his rock hard body. You gripped his clothes as you opened your mouth wider, letting his inhuman tongue explore your mouth.

In the privacy of his abode, you didn’t hesitate to tangle with him. Battling for dominance in the bed, a passionate dance of desire that had the dragon in him purring in delight. Morax bit your neck and you moaned in pleasure before making the split decision to bite him back.

Your clothes were askew, private parts exposed to the cold air and you returned the favor to Morax. His hair was untied and his thick cocks sprung out as soon as your hands pulled down his pants. In a fluid movement, you easily took both of his cocks inside your mouth.

Morax, who had never experienced such a thing, felt his heart quicken just as his arousal rose once more. It was a testament for his new found feelings towards you that he let his guard down and lost himself to the sensation of your tongue and mouth as it sucked him off. His hand clasped the back of your neck and held you still as he began fucking your mouth.

Your moans of pleasure made wonderful vibrations that intensified his arousal, drool dribbled down on the side of your lips as you slowly lost yourself to the haze of pleasure. His bed shook with each vigorous thrust that hit the back of your throat, he stilled inside your mouth, his cocks managing to not make gag as it spilled thick loads of cum down your throat.

Morax smirked at you and you smiled back, lazy and challenging. He laid you on the bed, body naked as the day you were born. Despite his recent orgasm, his cocks were still erect and throbbing, you bit your lip in anticipation.

Legs spread wide, exposing your hole that was calling out for his cocks with each twitch that was visible in Morax’ eyes, you were the picture of desire. Morax swore as soon as he plunged his cocks inside your tight and warm hole, you moaned feeling as if you had ascended to Celestia itself when his cocks stretched your hole. The burn, a mixture of pleasure and pain.

He moved slowly, coaxing you with sweet words as you cried out in pain and pleasure until the only feeling left was pleasure. For all of his inexperience, Morax was good at reading people and body language, and yours was the easiest he had read. It took him barely a minute before he was able to accurately tell which parts sent you to a high, which part of you brought forth more arousal.

He sucked on your tits as he thrusted into you, hitting your sensitive spot that had you moaning and begging his name. Your lustful moans felt more devoted than any other prayer he had received from his people. Your kisses felt more divine than any offering he had ever tasted.

If there had been another way to reach Divinity, Morax had no doubt that making love with you was one of them. Each touch from you sent his body aflame, each call of his name made him feel more of a god that he wasn’t.

Oh! How he wanted to drown in you for eternity until erosion came for him. He wanted you in all the ways he never understood, each particle of his cell calling out to yours, and Morax felt it too much so he poured each and every emotion you made him feel in fucking you. He fucked you as if to brand himself in you in all the ways that matter. He plunged his cocks inside you again and again, bringing you countless orgasms as you submissively let him maneuver your body however he wanted.

He fucked you from behind, thrusting hard enough to leave marks on your buttocks, spilling his seed again and again without stopping his thrusts as you came again and again.

He fucked you sideways, spreading your legs high and wide, as his mouth kissed and bit your neck, his hand pinching and twisting your nipples while his cocks slid in and out of your hole that was overflowing with his seed. He broke you apart with each round and mended you over and over again until you lost count of the times you came.

Both of you were so focused on each other that neither of you noticed the arrival of Zhongli.

And what a sight it was to behold, the way your body contorted in half as he watched Morax impale you with his cock again and again, the scent of sex heavy in the air. Zhongli felt his cock stir, quickly hardening as the lewd sounds of flesh clapping echoed loudly, he moved slowly as he divested himself of his clothes until he reached the side of the bed just as you and Morax laid on the bed, panting from the most recent orgasm.

He observed your body seeing the marks and bruises that littered it on top of the numerous drying flecks of cum on your skin. He swallowed his saliva and spoke,

“Perhaps there is room for one more?”

And your smile, inviting and sparkling at the thought of another challenge, made him breathless and helplessly fond of you all over again. The continuous and seemingly never ending cycle of him falling for you over and over again was one he would never tire of.

“Why don’t you come over and see for yourself?” You said, positioning yourself to lie on Morax as you spread your legs once more, hands going to your hole and spreading it for Zhongli to properly appreciate.

You felt Morax’ cum dribble down just as you felt his displease growl.

“I bet I can take the two of you at once”

There was no such thing as a medicine for regret, and it was one you had no need for. Not when two predatory glint brought you to a new height of pleasure.

Zhongli’s thrust was just as hard if not rougher than Morax, as if he was releasing centuries of frustrations to your abused hole, not that you were complaining. You were already lost to the pleasure of their cocks filling you and stretching you, all semblance of rationality thrown away as you begged for their cocks.

Zhongli’s cocks fucked your hole, easily slipping in and out from the cocks it had been receiving from Morax, Zhongli’s cocks were thicker but shorter when compared to Morax. Despite that his skillful thrust had you clamping and twisting as your mouth busied itself with Morax’ cocks.

Between the two of them, not a single part of you remained untouched. Your body was stained with their love, their marks littering every inch of your skin, their hands leaving bruises on your skin as you sank deeper and deeper into them. The overpowering scent of cum filled your senses as Zhongli and Morax threw away their rationality and began to fuck you like beasts in heat.

The fact that you could take them both at once, was proven true, with the way your holes relentlessly sought their cocks, how you ignored your bruised knees just to get into a better position for them. And it pleased them terribly, made them want you more. To make you theirs permanently and for as long as they breathe. It made them fuck you harder, just to reach deeper inside you, spilling their thick cum inside you until it over flowed.

You moaned, joy mixing with pleasure as you came just as they filled you to the brim. White spots filling your vision until you finally passed out. Your body remained responsive, your hole twitching as Zhongli continued fucking you through your orgasm.

Morax grinned, animalistic, as he took his cocks and smeared the remaining cum on your lips and then spreading it on your face, “You really could take us both at once.”

His cum spilled from the slight gap in your mouth, his thumb gently pushed it back inside before he turned to Zhongli, “Shall we see if they can take all of our cocks in one hole?”

Zhongli stilled as he spilled more of his cum inside, then he answered, “Let’s see how long it takes before they wake up as well.”

The two of them worked together, loosening your hole until it was able to fit four cocks inside, your walls spasmed with every thrust as your let out unconscious moans with the immense amount of pleasure from having four cocks inside you. Your unconscious and limp body was sandwiched between Zhongli and Morax, your nipples played with until it was sore and overly stimulated. The two of them didn’t stop fucking you until your stomach was filled with their cum, their cocks repeatedly penetrated you, thrusting inside you again and again until they had their fill.

Their cum created pools of semen on the bed sheets, some of it on the floor when the two decided to switch positions, trying out different positions with your unconscious but eager body until they were satisfied. By the time you woke up it was already afternoon of the next day, your body utterly sore from all the sex it went through.

You blinked and realized that there was someone sleeping beside you, a quick glance on the side and you recognized Zhongli, ‘The dream must have already ended’ you thought as you slowly got up from the bed.

Except your legs could barely stand, making you fall into the floor in a flash. You blinked, your mind not registering the pain but instead focusing on the feeling of something warm dripping down from between your thighs.

“Are you alright?” Zhongli asked, the vestiges of sleep clinging on his eyes, as he frantically assisted you back to the bed.

His torso was filled with scratches and bite marks. You flushed with embarrassment as you recognized the marks you left on him.

“I-just what happened after I passed out?”

“The first or the second one?”

“?”

Zhongli smiled tenderly at you, “It’s alright if you can’t remember, I’m sure another round would jog your memory.”

Like a magic trick, his words had your hole eagerly twitching with anticipation. Coyly you lied back on the bed and spread your legs, showing him your glistening, cum filled hole.

“Perhaps” You agreed with a seductive smile, “I’m sure I can take you well.”

[kuroopaisen]

takes one to know one || fushiguro megumi

➵ megumi just wants to buy some flowers from the nice stall attendant he definitely doesn’t have a crush on in peace. gojou has other plans.  

wc: 2.4k

warnings: gn!reader, incoherent chaos

a/n: gracie dearest this one’s for you :( you are so sweet and so lovely to me and i’m so, so glad we met in this hellscape (i would personally like to thank psycho-pass for existing) i hope i did your boy well! 

By the time he arrives at Jujutsu Tech, Megumi knows the flowers are a mistake.

“For me?” Gojou gasps, hands clasped and mouth agape in perhaps his most punchable smile. “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

Megumi’s fist tightens around the handle of his bouquet. Today, it’s lilacs, irises and white lilies. It’s also much bigger than usual – too big to inconspicuously leave on someone’s fence or place in the school gardens.

“You can have them if you want,” he murmurs. What else is he supposed to do with them?

The delight on Gojou’s face collapses into a precarious mix of genuine confusion and insatiable curiosity. “Hah? They’re not for anyone?”

“No,” Megumi says. And if they were, I wouldn’t tell you. Although he doesn’t say that last part. Gojou would perceive it as a challenge, and the less he knew about Megumi’s private life, the better.

“So…” A grin splits Gojou’s face. “The person you bought them from must be special, then.” 

Megumi freezes for just a second. But he knows a second is enough for Gojou to glean all the information he needs.  

“Ah,” Gojou hums. “I see.”

“No, you don’t,” Megumi mumbles, well-aware of the heat rising in his cheeks.

“But why would you go out of your way to buy a bouquet of flowers, hm?” Gojou grins, shit-eating grin back on his face. “They don’t hand these out for free, you know.”

Megumi’s grip is so firm he’s scared he’ll crush the stems.

Although, he still doesn’t know what he’s going to do with them. It doesn’t feel right to throw them out – not when you’d spent time putting it together – but he wasn’t about to revamp his room with a distinctly floral accent.

Is it against social protocol to give the flowers back to you? Not now, of course, but maybe on his evening walk… or tomorrow morning…

He still doesn’t know why he didn’t just walk past you that first day.

But something about the way you were gazing out into the street, eyes wide and hopeful as you watched people ignore you on their daily commute… something about that drew him in.

And once he’d bought something from you once – just a small flower, one he didn’t know the name of, but seemed appropriate behind a cute girl’s ear – he couldn’t very well start ignoring you.

Not when your smile is so bright, your eyes sparkling with gratitude whenever he takes whatever floral arrangement you’ve lovingly bundled together out of your hands.

But now he’s paying the price – in more ways than one.

✧ ✧ ✧

Your flower stall is just a few feet away from one of the trendiest cafes in this area of Tokyo, and whoever oversees your little operation is obviously trying to capitalise on that. Setting up so early must be an attempt to catch the rush of bleary-eyed corporate workers craving their necessary morning coffee.

What use an office worker has for flowers, Megumi doesn’t know. But he has a feeling that you’d probably say something along the lines of “it’ll help brighten the place up.”

As usual, you’re waiting there patiently, eyes hopefully scanning the streets for any potential customers. Your face positively lights up when you finally catch sight of him – something that still makes Megumi nearly trip over his own feet.

“Good morning!” You call out, waving to him.

Megumi raises a hand in response, shuffling towards you with all the embarrassment of a high schooler on their way to their first date.

“Can I interest you in a floral arrangement on this fine Saturday morning?” You grin, eyes twinkling as you make your marketing pitch.

“Sure,” Megumi sighs, scanning the vast array of flowers currently on display. He’s getting better at picking them out, but he still can’t name any of them on sight.

You wait patiently, hands folded on the counter. If you think he’s an idiot, you keep it to yourself.

“Those ones,” he says, pointing at a group of blue heart-shaped flowers.

“The morning glories?” You ask reflexively, reaching over to pluck a bunch out of their display.

“Yeah,” Megumi shrugs. He has no idea what a morning glory is. The term sounds like something Gojou and Yuji would snicker at.

“They’re gorgeous,” you smile, taking a moment to admire them.

“Yeah,” Megumi says again.

Flowers aren’t really his thing; God help him if he was ever asked what his favourite kind was. But there’s no point in saying any of that – not when he’s already spent an embarrassing amount of money at this one stall.

“You’re keeping the business afloat, you know,” you giggle, as if reading his mind.

Megumi blinks at you. “Really?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “It wouldn’t be amiss to say you’re our most important patron.” You beam at him, same sparkle in your eyes as always.

He’d be furious, if you weren’t so nice.

How is he supposed to focus when you’re looking at him like that? How’s he supposed to ask who ‘we’ is? A business partner? A partner partner?

But you look so young. You can’t possibly be running a business. But you might have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or both. Or a partner of an otherwise non-binary gender.

Too many questions, no social capacity to ask them.

“So,” Megumi begins, his voice calm and composed as ever. His mind, however, is scrambling around like a fast-food joint at rush hour, trying to string together a sentence that’s not only coherent but also fascinating.

“How old are you?”

Whoops.

It’s the forbidden question. Or, at least, that’s what people always say. People, in this case, is Gojou. It usually is.

You seem unbothered. “I turn seventeen this year.”

Was it only a forbidden question for people who’re older? But in that case, surely knowing someone’s age was pertinent for the whole ‘respect’ thing. Maybe Gojou just didn’t think he should ever ask anyone’s age because then he’s not beholden to honorifics.

But Megumi can’t imagine him using them properly anyway.

That’s not the point. The point is that you’re the same age as him. You weren’t somehow twenty-seven with a baby face.

“Oh,” Megumi nods. “Me too.”

The smile you give him is almost unbearable. How is it even more of a smile than your usual smile? That doesn’t make any sense.

There’s a certain excitement bubbling in his gut that he doesn’t recognise or like.

Wait, if you’re his age, then…

“Do you not go to school on Saturdays?” He asks.

Is this conversation too dry? He’s not sure. He doesn’t usually make an effort at this sort of thing.

“My school doesn’t have classes on Saturday mornings,” you smile, meticulously wrapping brown paper around the stems of a set of particularly bright morning glories. You always do it so delicately; where on earth do you find the patience?

There’s something… graceful, about how you go about it. Sure, it’s your job, but Megumi still enjoys watching you work because—

“Hello there!”

Megumi knows that voice.

Oh no.

“Hello!” You fold your hands in front of you and give your new customer a bow. But your usual smile has been replaced with an expression of middling confusion as you look him up and down.

Megumi doesn’t need to turn around to know who’s standing behind him.

“Who’d’ve thought there’d be so many kinds of flowers in bloom, huh?” Gojou grins, slinging a lanky arm around Megumi’s shoulders.

Megumi glances to the side.

A pair of startingly blue eyes peek at him from behind black shades.

“What are you doing here?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I thought I’d just come out for a morning stroll,” Gojou sighs, gesturing to the sky. “Don’t you think it’s gorgeous?”

Megumi’s ready to commit a murder.

“And look at all these flowers!” Gojou exclaims, bending down to peer at some asters closely. “Did you grow them all yourself?”

“Of course not,” you laugh. “I just sell them.”

Jealous maybe isn’t the right word. But there is a twisting in Megumi’s gut upon the realisation that within minutes of meeting you, Gojou had made you laugh. Megumi, on the other hand, was yet to do that.

“Well, either way, my student is a big fan,” Gojou smirks, shaking Megumi’s shoulder. Megumi’s soul is currently leaving his body.

“I was just telling him that he’s our most valued customer,” you smile, tilting your head at the pair of them.

“Ah, is that so?” Gojou grins. It’s amazing, really, how he manages to capture all the terror of the apocalypse in one smile. “I never really took him as a flower guy.”

“Everyone’s a flower guy, sir,” you tsk, shaking your head. “Even you.”

Gojou places an affronted hand on his chest. “So quick to make assumptions!”

“Not at all,” you smile. “You’d be surprised by what our customer base looks like.”

“You don’t say,” Gojou grins, turning to Megumi.

Megumi considers the consequences of punching Gojou right in the nether regions. He doubts he’d be punished for it by the higher ups; if anything, he’ll probably be rewarded. Maybe even pushed up a grade for his invaluable service.

“Fushiguro!”

Oh no.

Megumi’s eyes widen ever so slightly. His head whips round to Gojou. His teacher is already looking straight at him.

“Ah,” Gojou grins. “I told Yuji to meet me here this morning.” The glint in his eyes strikes terror right through Megumi’s departing soul.

Sure enough, Itadori barrels his way towards them, damn near colliding against Megumi with a ‘thump’.

Megumi can do something but stare into the abyss, hoping, wishing, praying this is just a nightmare.

Unfortunately, it’s not.

You give the newest addition to this strange little posse a customary bow. “Good morning!”

Itadori beams at you, his entire face lighting up. “Good morning!”

A strange panic starts to rise from Megumi’s gut. If he thought about it, you and Itadori would get along well. Too well.

Thoughts of you and Itadori walking hand in hand down the street as you laugh, Itadori offering you his coat on a clod morning as you blush, Itadori walking you home, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully as you lean towards him and –

Megumi blinks the thoughts away. What is wrong with him today?

You and Itadori have just met. And what was it to Megumi anyway? It’s not like he—

“Megumi?” Itadori tilts his head at him.

Megumi stares back blankly. “Hm?”

“I wanted to know how you found this place,” Itadori asks, voice bright but with the uncertain quality inherent to repeating oneself.

“Oh,” Megumi murmurs. “Well, I…”

In truth, he doesn’t remember. He just saw you one morning and decided to approach. He still doesn’t know why. But he doesn’t regret it.

“I roped him in with my charm,” you piqued up, picking up the lull in conversation.

Try as he might, Megumi just can’t concentrate. Itadori’s pressed against him, Gojou’s still got his arm slung around his shoulder, and—

“Ah, Nobara’s here!” Gojou beams, waving a hand over his head.

“What are you doing here of all places?” Nobara frowns, raising an eyebrow at Megumi. “I wouldn’t have taken this as your sort of scene.”

If there’s a hell, Megumi’s sure it’s this.

Conversation is bubbling around him but none of it is registering in his mind, he can see Nobara’s dissatisfied look as she takes in the situation at hand but he doesn’t have the energy to retort, Gojou is playing with the petals of one of the display flowers but Megumi knows he’s not going to buy it and—

“Hey, Megumi?”

He snaps back to reality at the sound of your voice, gentle and concerned.

“Are you alright?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. It’s as if you’re completely ignoring the rabble, as if you see him and only him.

Next to him Gojou, Yuji and Nobara watch with rapt attention.

“Yeah,” he lies. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

You frown at you look at him. Something flashes in your eyes and you suddenly duck beneath your countertop.

Megumi and his gaggle of fools blink in surprise.

In a moment you hop back up, something purple bundled up in your hands. “Here,” you smile, handing it out to him, “this is supposed to help you sleep.”

One whiff and he knows it’s lavender.

“How much?” Megumi asks.

You shake your head. “Oh, no. It’s on me.”

Megumi’s heart flutters as you smile. Despite the chaos going on around him, despite the fact that he knows he’s going to be mocked for this for weeks to come, he’s grateful.

Somehow.

“Sorry about this…” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s fine,” you giggle, shaking your head.

Megumi feels Gojou chuckle quietly, his chest rattling. Itadori is unusually quiet and Nobara seems moments away from a laughing fit.

“I should go,” Megumi says quickly and suddenly. He doesn’t give you time to respond, zipping down the street as fast as his feet can carry him. He needs a shower and then a run and then he needs to beat a training dummy up and then—

“Wait, Megumi!”

He freezes in his tracks. That’s… your voice.

And around his wrist is… is…

He turns to look at you over his shoulder, eyes darting for where you hand wraps around his wrist. Why is his heart racing so absurdly fast? Why does it feel like his head’s about to explode? You’re just holding his wrist. You’re not even touching his skin. Not that it matters—

“Will I see you tomorrow?” You ask, not quite able to meet his gaze.

It brings him back to the moment.

“Of course,” Megumi answers reflexively.

You finally lift your eyes up. They seem to be sparkling. “I look forward to it.”

Before he even has time to process it you’ve let him go and trotted back to your stall, tending to your flowers as if nothing’d happened.

This has been too much embarrassment for one day. He’s not entirely sure what’s going on and he’s not sure he wants to know. But man, he needs at least several hours alone to process everything.

As Megumi shuffles away, Gojou bounds after him, still grinning like a fool.

“So, Megumi’s got himself a—”

Megumi elbows him in the stomach before Gojou even has a chance to finish his sentence.

[mizunetzu]

ok ok so my request 👉🏻👈🏻

it’s the most obvious thing but i have a full crush on bakugou, so can you please write about him x male reader, where the reader is like.. having nightmares or almost doesn’t sleep because of his quirk (idk like maybe he can hear something special or predict anything bad, doesn’t really matter) but feels safe around bakugou so he always falls asleep around him or even oN him and katsuki is like “😡(❤️)shit whatever” and the reader is kinda shy about that but totally ok with their friends being like “wow bro that’s kinda gay :> ” because he is comfortable with “oh that’s because i aM the gay✌🏻” and his classmates love him and everything and would never mock.. but one time someone from another class was really really rude bcs of that or said that katsuki hates it so the reader starts to avoid bakugou and bakugou geTS MAD about it because reader is just his and no one else’s >:0 maybe a little confession from him in the end, maybe some.. *gay coughing* angy k*ss from him

please make it angsty but with a fluffy ending please please and thank you very much in advance💙 sorry if it’s too big i can’t explain my thoughts properly thaha

Bruh I just realized how long this request is 💀💀 also look at me, writing it like decades after you requested it 😭 pls enjoy I’m actually quite proud of it (also isn’t that gif perfect hahah get it bc the prompt was abt like sleeping and bakugou’s sleeping and-yeah I’ll let u read now)

——————

Bakugou x reader - Angry Insomniacs

⚠️Warnings - mild arguing, it’s not that bad

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

“Why are you always fuckin’ sleeping on me?”

It first started during the Sports Festival. The chicken race and cavalry battle really took a toll on (Y/n), and he was suffering harsh quirk drawbacks. That, being drowsiness.

Somewhere on the stands, (y/n’s) eyes grew heavier and heavier until he realized he had fallen asleep. He also didn’t realized until he woke up that no one disturbed him when he was near Bakugou. Be it fear, or just plain respect, (Y/n) seemed to get the best rest when he was with Bakugou. Not even Iida dared to wake him up when he dosed off on Bakugous shoulder.

He always made it a point to be in Bakugous vicinity when ever he could, taking naps with his head buried in his arms next to Bakugou at lunch, or having his head resting on his shoulder in the dorms.

“Oi! Don’t drift off on me!”

“Mm? Sorry, Bakugou.”

(Y/n) rubbed his eyes as he weakly pushed off the common room couch, stretching and yawning as he did so. “Can I sleep in your room tonight?”

“N-no, dumbass! Fuck kinda question is that, shit-for-brains?!”

“I’ll see you there later then, Bakugou.” (Y/n) gave a slight nod, Bakugou practically foaming at the mouth already, before trotting off the continue his nap in his own room.

Before heading to his room though, he walked into the kitchen to grab a post-nap time snack. Tsuyu, who was already digging in the fridge, stepped back so (Y/n) could grab whatever he wanted.

Tsu eyed (Y/n’s) slightly tousled hair. “Did you take another nap on bakugou-chan? Kero.”

(Y/n) hummed out a “yes.” Tsu hummed back in acknowledgment. Kaminari and Kirishima, unintentionally, started listening in from their place in the kitchen after hearing Bakugou being mentioned.

Tsuyu put a finger to her lip. “Ne, (Y/n)-chan, why do you always take naps on Bakugou-chan? It’s always him, kero, and you go out of your way to make sure it’s only him.”

“Why?” (Y/n) pulled off the carton of milk stubbornly hanging on to the fridge. “Because I like Bakugou. Duh. And I sleep better near people I like.

Kaminari gasped comically while Kirishima sputtered and choked on his words. Not just listening anymore, Kaminari but in. “L-like? Like, ‘like’-like?!”

Kaminari and Kirishima joined Tsuyu and (Y/n) near the fridge. (Y/n) nodded out an “mm-hm.”, whilst grabbing a cup from the cabinet.

“So you’re like...” Kirishima made wild, indecipherable, gestures with his hand. Eventually, after realizing no one was taking the hint, brought his voice down to a whisper.

“...like...gay..?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell us?!” Kaminari grasped at his blond hair. (Y/n) thought for a moment, poured himself a glass of milk, and shrugged.

“I don’t know. You never asked.”

“And you’re so comfortable just telling us now? Why, kero-kero?”

“Because I’m gay as fuuuuuck.” (Y/n) took a swig of milk like it was a shot of whiskey. “And it’s not like it was a secret or anything.”

“Though I don’t think Bakugou knows. He’s too angry about me sleepin’ on him all the time to actually care about me.”

(Y/n) polished off his glass of milk. He set the cup down gently into the sink. “Eh, it’s not like I actually care for what he thinks about me.”

“See ya, I’m gonna finish my nap.”

“Uh-bye”

“Bye-bye.”

“Bye, kero.”

———

(Y/n) yawned as his head lolled off of Bakugou’s shoulder. He hissed, dusting off his shoulder angrily.

“Go sleep somewhere else!”

“I’m just goin’ to the bathroom, Bakugou, I’ll be back. Keep your shoulder warm for me.”

(Y/n) weakly stood up from his chair, and sluggishly walked out of the cafeteria. Damn, his feet felt heavy. Maybe if he hurried to the bathroom, he’d get back in time to catch a few more minutes of sleep before Bakugou exploded on him or lunch ended.

(Y/n’s) shoulder accidentally caught on someone else’s, making him stumble back and rub his shoulder. Monoma tilted his chin up in a mocking fashion.

“Ara? Is that (L/n) (Y/n) from class 1-A I see?”

(Y/n) nodded, only half processing his words as he continued on his way to the bathroom. Monoma followed somewhat behind, spewing words and one-liners that went in one ear and out the other. That is, until,

“Honestly, you would’ve thought that angry blond kid would’ve told you by now”.

(Y/n’s) ear perked up. He halted to a stop, Monoma following suit and shoving his hands smugly in his pockets. “What’s this about Bakugou?”

“Oh? He really didn’t tell you, huh? That’s...” Monoma stifled a condescending snicker. “...surprising.”

(Y/n) stepped closer. “C’mon man, tell me what?”

Monoma sighed. “Well,”

“I heard that Mr. Blasty, matter-o-factly,” Monoma jabbed his pointer finger into (Y/n’s) chest. “Really, really hates it when you sleep on, or near him. Actually,”

“I think he just hates you in general.”

(Y/n) furrowed his brows. He’s lying. He’s lying. He likes him, doesn’t he? Bakugou likes him, or else he wouldn’t have lead him on for so long, right?

Because he wouldn’t let just anyone sleep on his shoulder...right?

“You’re lying.”

“Well, believe what you want, honestly,” Monoma made a show of crossing his arms dramatically. “But you should see the way he shit-talks and glares at you in you’re sleep. It’s not like he can push you off though, you’re ‘just so persistent you’ll never leave him the fuck alone’.”

(Y/n) shoved his hands in his pockets. Monoma raised his hands in defense. “His words, not mine.”

(Y/n) turned on his heel and began to speed walk to the bathroom. Monoma yelled out from his spot in the empty hallway.

“Oh? You don’t want to hear what he thinks about your little crush on him?”

(Y/n) froze. He was under the assumption that everyone but him knew, could he be wrong? He pressed his lips into a fine line, turning around as composedly as he could. Though, he couldn’t mask the fearful curiosity in his eyes.

Monoma grinned. It was an unpleasant, sarcastic grin, one that didn’t look peaceful or pleasing at all.

“Well, I doubt that there’s anything to to say at all, so does it really ma-“

“What...what does he say about me?” (Y/n’s) voice quivered. He knew he was falling into Monoma’s trap, that he was just trying to provoke him, that he was looking for any kind of reaction, but his curiosity got the best of him. It really did, because Monoma’s words stabbed spears into (Y/n’s) heart, word by word.

“Blasty thinks it’s fucking disgusting how you like him, like, as another dude. Like honestly, he thinks you take him for an idiot for thinking he actually didn’t know! And the fact you sleep so close to him know full well you want to get in his pants?! He thinks you’re a pervert! A lazy shit! A fag! Ahahaha!”

Monoma loud cackles were cut short when he suddenly slumped over. He sunk to the ground, revealing Kendo, holding one big hand up and the other to her waist. She most likely knocked Monoma out once she heard his condescending retorts from the cafeteria.

Kendo sighed, bending down the haul Monoma’s arm over her shoulder. Her heavy glare softened once she caught sight of (Y/n’s) buggy eyed face starting at the ground where Monoma was.

“Sorry...he didn’t say anything too harsh, right?” Kendo’s words were gentle, but they sounded practically inaudible to (Y/n’s) traumatized ears.

He wordlessly staggered past her, heading back into the cafeteria to grab his lunch and sit elsewhere. He supposed he wouldn’t bother Bakugou anymore. Since he’s so damn ‘persistent’, he figured he’d stop bothering him for the rest of the day.

He wished he wasn’t so curious about what Bakugou thought of him. Like people say, ignorance is bliss. He could’ve gone his whole high school career without knowing Bakugou hated his every being. How was he going to face him in class knowing every pointer glare, every scoff, every insult was genuine?

(Y/n) felt his throat tighten. For the first time in years, (L/n) (Y/n) was fully awake.

——

It was the first time in many months that (Y/n) didn’t sit in the seat next to Bakugou, napping in his presence. He’d done it every day no fail, that is until this week. Actually, this is the 6th consecutive day he didn’t take a nap at all.

(Y/n) sat placid in his assigned seat, eyes wide and trying to keep awake. He couldn’t sleep without thinking of Bakugou, and every time he did it was always him scoffing and turning his back on him.

Every few seconds, (Y/n) would jolt harshly in his seat, rocking back and forth like a drug addict in withdrawal. He stared at his desk with eyes that could kill someone, and he dug his hands into his forearms to keep himself somewhat awake.

He didn’t hear Kirishima calling his name until he snapped his fingers infront of his face. The snap rang like a gunshot, surprising (Y/n) from his trance so badly he jolted back like he got electrocuted. Kirishima raised an eyebrow.

“You...ok man...?”

(Y/n’s) dry eyes landed fixed onto Kirishima. He relaxed, and let out a breath he didn’t know he was taking. “M’fine...”

His voice cracked like it hadn’t been used for days. (Y/n) let his eyes drift back forward, hunching back over and huddling his body like he was trying to squeeze himself to death. When Kirishima gave him a skeptical glare and crossed his arms, (Y/n) let out a small “m’ just tired, that’s all...” and gave the most pathetic smile known to man.

“If you’re so tired,” Mina, rested her arms on the back of (Y/n’s) chair. “Why don’t you sleep on Bakugou like you do every morn-“

“NO! I-I can’t do that!” (Y/n) whipped his head back, gripping the back of his chair so hard his hand turned white. Mina and Kirishima flinched, noticeably caught off guard with his sudden outburst. “I...can’t...I can’t do that...”

(Y/n) suddenly looked very awake, contrasting the way he looked like he was struggling to keep his eyes open the whole time they were in class.

(Y/n’s) breath steadied as he shut his mouth awkwardly. “M’sorry...for yelling...didn’t mean to...”

(Y/n) scrubbed at his eyes. The rush of adrenaline was already wearing off. Mina set her dainty pink hand on (Y/n’s) hunched form. “Why not...?”

“I just can’t.”

(Y/n) said nothing more. He went back to his occasional jolts awake and scrubbing his heavy eyes every 2 minutes. Kirishima sighed, shaking his head towards Bakugou, before shrugging his shoulders then forming an ‘X’ with his hands.

Bakugou clicked his tongue angrily, turning and facing back forward in his seat.

——

(Y/n) was practically seeing stars by the end of hero’s class.

It was a relatively simple assignment, 1 on 1 sparring, but it caused a lot of quirk use.

He fought both his tired eyes and Midoryia, but ultimately failing due to his harsh quirk drawbacks. Midoryia barely had to break a sweat to have (Y/n) come toppling down.

(Y/n) was ushered back into the horde of students murmuring “don’t mind” and “you did great!”, but he just slithered past and stood a few feet away from them, all the way in the back of the field.

All might was explaining something (Y/n) couldn’t quite hear. Not only because he was standing so far away, but because his hearing had been considerably wonky, not to mention the hissing, ringing sound irritating his eardrums.

“Oi.”

And even if the ringing had stopped and he could hear, his brain was too tuckered out to remember anything past five seconds ago.

“Oi!”

Gosh, speaking of his brain-

“OI! SHIT-FOR-BRAINS! YOU GONNA KEEP IGNORING ME OR YOU GONNA TELL ME WHY YOU’VE BEEN AVOIDIN’ ME?!”

Bakugou set off a small explosion. The blast wasn’t nearly as loud or powerful as in combat, but to a tired mans ears, it sounded like nukes. The ringing in (Y/n’s) ears spiked, and he cupped his ears tightly.

“B-Bakugou, nows not-“

“OH, YOU TRYNA TUNE ME OUT BY COVERIN’ YOUR EARS NOW?!” Another explosion. Bakugou’s gauntlets had been out for repairs since his last hero training, so (Y/n) could clearly see the glowing red and yellow spark from his fist. The ringing spiked again. His vision burned with sparks.

(Y/n) winced, saying nothing, and brought his hands to rub at his eyes. Bakugou eyebrow twitched.

“STOP IGNORING ME!”

Bakugou brought his hand out, his gloved hand starting to glow red with his next explosion. (Y/n) couldn’t take it anymore.

He stumbled forward, and grabbed Bakugou’s wrist. He shoved it out of the way, but his hand still ignited and set off a blast that propelled them straight to the ground.

“G-get off-a me!” Bakugou tried pushing (Y/n) off with his free hand.

(Y/n) pinned Bakugou’s glowing right hand by the wrist, using his other to hold down his other shoulder. (Y/n) would’ve never done something as ballsy and stupid as this, but he was too tired, too done, too much in pain to care.

“What are you actually trying to say!? All that stupid extra yelling and petty insults, they get you fucking nowhere! Spit it out! Or does trying to intimidate every single fucking person you meet just self-satisfaction?!”

Bakugou growled. He grabbed at (Y/n’s) shoulders, pushing off of him and pinning (Y/n) to the ground in his place.

“Then what about you, huh?!” Bakugou was angrily spitting at (Y/n’s) face. “Why the fuck did you stop getting enough sleep for your quirk?! Are you just that dumb that you stay up at night?!”

“I don’t wanna hear it from a stupid fucker like you, who can’t even take care of himself!”

(Y/n) hissed. He freed his dominant hand from Bakugou’s vice grip and pushed at Bakugou’s face, grabbing a fistful of his hair. “All you ever do is shit talk! Shut up! No one thinks it’s fucking cool!”

“What the hell are you even talking about?!”

The two wrestled on the ground, angrily grabbing and tugging at each other, and rolling around on the floor. There were shouts of “get Aizawa-no, get midnight-sensei!” and “All might, stop them!”, but the two were so caught up in their fight they couldn’t hear anything.

“Can’t you ever learn to mind your fucking Business?!”

“What the fuck does that even have to do with this!”

(Y/n) flipped Bakugou over one more time. He pushed him down by the forehead, pushing his head down into the ground while Bakugou flailed and kicked from underneath him.

“SHUT UP! WHY DO YOU EVEN FUCKIN’ CARE, BAKUGOU?! WHY DO...w-why do...wh...”

A sweet, sweet smell flooded (Y/n’s) senses. It smelt relaxing, tantalizing, it smelled like sleep. It smelled like sleep. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep so bad. Maybe he could just...

(Y/n) slowly sank from his spot on top of Bakugou, flopping on top of his body and going completely slack. Bakugou’s eyes widened, and he covered his nose.

Midnight strutted from above the two, waving away a few stray wisps of her mist. Bakugou hacked out a new breath, while (Y/n) laid on top of him, peacefully asleep for the first time in days.

“Well, it seems like you two already know without me saying it.” Midnight motioned over to two small robots carrying a stretcher. “I’ll just take him to recovery girl and he should wake up in-“

Bakugou pursed his lips and wrapped his arms around (Y/n’s) sleeping figure when Midnight extended her arm towards them. He tightened his arms around (Y/n).

“I’ll do it. S-since this piece of shit attacked me first and...I’ll just do it-!”

Midnight eyed him knowingly, before waving him off and mumbling something about ‘youth’.

——

(Y/n’s) eyes fluttered open. His body felt like it was broken in every way possible. It was so sore, it hurt even thinking about moving. (Y/n) laid there, with his eyes half open, contemplating whether or not he should close them again.

Would he be able to sleep, though? Even if he’d started sleeping near Bakugou as a ‘don’t-wake-me-up’ measure, it slowly stopped being just that and more a matter of he felt safe and comfortable around him. In a way, he’s become a bit dependent on him, which is probably a bad thing, but he didn’t care.

Sleeping with Bakugou felt best. But that wasn’t an option, now was it?

(Y/n) pursed his lips, an involuntary groan rumbling from his tired vocal cords. He continued staring at the blinding nurse office lights, staring until he saw spots in his vision.

“Stop doing that-do you wanna go fuckin’ blind?”

(Y/n) flinched. He hated the way that familiar, aggravated voice still stirred butterflies into his stomach. He glanced to his side, as if to make sure he wasn’t just hearing things.

He met eyes with Bakugou.

“Bout’ time you fuckin’ woke up. Been waitin’ forever, shit-for-brains.”

(Y/n) averted his eyes back up to the blinding floodlights. Bakugou scowled. “Oi! Don’t ignore m-“

“How long were you here for?”

Bakugou went silent. It was his turn to avert his eyes, albeit more angrily.

“...I was here since you fuckin’ fainted in class, idiot. I even carried your stupid body here from the dumbass carrier bots.”

(Y/n’s) eyes softened, unlike Bakugou’s, who glared at the floor just beside the chair he was sitting in. (Y/n) checked the big black clock mounted on top of Recovery Girl’s desk.

It was 6:00 pm.

If Bakugou was telling the truth, he’d been sitting there waiting for him to wake up for 4 hours straight.

“Bakugou-its been hours since class ended-you should be at the dorms by now-! Why did you-“

“Well if you told me why you suddenly started avoiding me we wouldn’t be here right now!”

(Y/n) let his mouth fall closed. Bakugou scoffed. “Well?!”

(Y/n) opened his mouth, but it clamped shut when Monoma’s words echoed in his mind. Bakugou looked at him with an expectant face.

“I can’t tell you.”

“WH-“ Bakugou sputtered angrily. “COURSE YOU CAN! THE FUCKS STOPPING YOU!”

“Nothing I-I just can’t!”

“WHY!? WHY NOT?!”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

“OK AND?! I LOVE YOU TOO!”

“THEN WHATS THE PROBLEM HERE!” (Y/n) shouted, before he cupped his mouth in realization. Bakugou’s eyes went wide aswell. “Wait I didn’t mean that-“

“YEAH! WHATS THE FUCKIN PROBLEM HERE?!” Bakugou recovered from his initial shock, already back to yelling. (Y/n) furrowed his brows with a blush.

“Wh..wait so-“

“I LIKE YOU, YOU LIKE ME, SO WHY THE FUCK DID YOU STOP SLEEPING ON ME?!”

“Wait but...” (Y/n’s) voice was barely above a whisper. “Don’t you, y’know...not like it...when I do that-?”

“DUMBASS! WHERE’D YOU GET THAT FROM?!” It seemed like Bakugou got angrier and angrier each passing second. It was hard to tell what (Y/n) found so attractive about him.

“From...from Monoma...?”

Bakugou looked angrier than ever. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow. “YOU-I CAN’T BELIEVE-! I-! FUCK IT!”

Bakugou snarled and practically shoved his face onto (Y/n’s), angrily stealing his breath away with a kiss. The kiss, surprisingly, was soft and gentle, despite Bakugou’s previous intensity. It seemed to calm Bakugou down, and cheer (Y/n) up.

The two slowly parted for air. It was quiet for a second, something that rarely happened near Bakugou.

“I thought you hated me...”

“W-why the fuck would I hate you...dumbass.” Bakugou rested his forehead on (Y/n’s) shoulder. His spiky tufts of blond hair tickling (Y/n’s) face.

“Because Monoma said so...?”

“I’m gonna kill that bastard.” Bakugou snarled, climbing into the cot (Y/n) was in. He pushed (Y/n) back down into the pillow, pulling up the white blanket and laying down next to him. He guided (Y/n’s) head-a tad bit forcefully-to his chest. “...after we sleep.”

Bakugou shut his eyes, half irritated and half embarrassed, while (Y/n) chuckled tiredly. He nuzzled his head into Bakugou’s chest.

“Goodnight, Bakugou.”

——

Extra:

Monoma walked into class 1-B the next morning. He yawned, still a bit tired, when he ran straight into someone.

“Hey, copycat fucker.”

Monoma looked up. The class was empty, with no one but Bakugou standing infront of him.

Fuck.

Needless to say, Bakugou got another 3 days of house arrest.

——————

Bru this was so long ong

[fruitcoops]

Cake Off

Happy birthday, Finn O'Hara! Here's to hoping all your wishes come true <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Marlene waved to the camera as she wove a small whisk into her bun; behind her, five young men sat in front of a well-lit industrial kitchen. “Hello, Lions, and welcome back to Lion Pride! I’m your host, Marlene McKinnon, and we’re here today to celebrate someone we all love very much.”

“Some more than others,” Leo corrected.

“Today is Finn O’Hara’s 25thbirthday,” Marlene continued. “And my gift to him was letting him pick what our next video was going to be. Being the agent of chaos we know and love, he chose to force his friends to make him birthday cakes. Cap, Knutty, I know you two are feeling pretty confident about this. Tremzy, Kasey, and Loops, how are we feeling today?”

Logan’s expression was rather pained. “Can I apologize in advance?”

“I have…a history with ovens,” Kasey said carefully. “Kind of like Britain’s history with the rest of the world, except I’m the rest of the world and the oven wins nine times out of ten.”

“I don’t bake,” Remus sighed. “This is going to be an adventure. Can I leave if I already got him a present?”

“Nope!” Marlene chirped. “To your stations, everyone!”

The five of them trooped to the countertops, which had been covered with a colorful assortment of baking supplies; Logan’s smile grew even more nervous. “Is there a guidebook, or something?”

Marlene ruffled his hair as she passed. “Where’s the fun in that? You have two hours to make a unique birthday cake. On your marks—”

Kasey went pale. “Wait—”

“—get set—”

“Marlene, please,” Remus begged.

“—go!”

“Oh my god,” Logan muttered. “Uh, I don’t have a recipe.”

Marlene’s grin was wicked. “That’s the extra bonus fun.”

Leo paused from where he was measuring flour into a sifter and raised his hand. “Finn’s not actually tasting everyone’s cakes, right? ‘Cause making him sick on his birthday seems a bit mean.”

“He only has to try one bite of each,” Marlene assured him as she stopped by Sirius’ station, where he was gathering his ingredients in a line. “Cap, what are you making today?”

“Vanilla with chocolate frosting. I know the recipe by heart, but I only make it when I’m stressed.” A furrow appeared between his brows before he straightened up and raised his voice. “Hey, someone stress me out!”

“Playoffs!” Kasey shouted from across the room. All five men immediately hurried to knock on the wooden cabinets.

“Thanks!” Sirius gave him a thumbs-up and Kasey winked.

“And somebody won’t be sleeping tonight,” Remus muttered, flicking sugar at Kasey. “Thanks, Bliz.”

Logan was still bracing himself against the countertop when Marlene arrived at his table. “How’re you feeling, Tremz? I see you haven’t chosen any ingredients.”

“There’s a very fine line between making your boyfriend a birthday cake and poisoning him,” Logan said after a moment. “And I think I’m about to find out where it is.”

“What are you making?”

“I don’t know yet. Whatever happens, happens.”

“Fair enough,” Marlene laughed as she moved on. “Leo?”

“I’m gonna make a lemon cake,” he said with a proud smile as he mixed the dry ingredients. “And it’s going to be delicious.”

“Do you bake at home very often? You sound confident.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “For special occasions, yeah. I vaguely know what I’m doing, so I feel pretty good.”

“How do you think Logan’s cake will turn out?”

Leo paused and glanced up. A beat of silence passed before he bit his lower lip. “I think it’s a really good thing that Finn has two boyfriends that are making him cakes.”

“Rude,” Logan grumbled as he dumped another cupful of flour into a bowl to Sirius’ obvious horror. He stuck his tongue out. “Don’t give me that look, Cap, this cake is going to be fucking amazing.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows and turned back to his own batter. “If you say so.”

Logan stood on his toes and poured the next cup directly over Sirius’ head in a poof of white. The studio went silent. With a cough, a bit of flour puffed from Sirius’ mouth. “Cap?” Kasey ventured.

“Hmm?”

“You okay?”

“Mhmm.” He slowly took a towel off the oven door and wiped his face with it, then whipped around and snapped it at Logan’s thigh—it connected with a sharp sound, followed by a yelp as Logan shoved Leo in front of him as a makeshift shield. “You can’t hide behind him forever!”

“Remember, you only have two hours!” Marlene called as she dodged a patch of flour on the floor. Sirius scowled and put the towel back down on the counter; Logan backed away to his station with a suspicious glare. “Loops, how are you?”

“I’m minding my own business,” he said innocently. “Staying in my lane. Paying no attention to the idiots behind the curtain, if you will.”

“Impressive. What are you making for our wonderful Harzy?”

“Spite cake.”

“What?”

“Spite cake,” he repeated with a shadow of a smile. “It’s carrot cake, but with no special ingredient of love or appreciation, because he knows how much I hate baking and he’s been making fun of me over text all morning.”

Leo frowned. “Weren’t you two bonding over how much you hate carrot cake when we went to lunch yesterday?”

“Hence the name,” Remus said as he pulled a cheese grater out of the lineup.

“And last, but certainly not least, Kasey.” Marlene leaned against the edge of his table. “How’s it going over here?”

“So far, so good.” He eyed his batter and poked one of the lumps with a fork. “Does this look ready to you?”

“Seems a bit wet, to be honest.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Do people put milk in cake batter?” On the other end of the kitchen, Sirius and Leo shared a look.

Marlene patted his arm. “Good luck, Bliz.”

The camera cut for a moment—when it returned, the three bakers on the far end seemed to be even more flustered than before. “You have one hour left!” someone off-screen announced.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Logan held his spatula up. The batter remained stuck to it in a doughy lump. “Is this supposed to happen?”

Leo’s eyes flickered between Sirius, who was clearly shocked into silence, and Logan, who was growing more distressed by the second. “Sure, honey.”

“Baby, it looks like jello,” Remus called as he shook his mixing bowl with a nervous glance to Sirius. “Why does it look like jello?”

“Mon dieu,” Sirius muttered as he crossed the room; the second he looked over Remus’ shoulder, his eyes widened. “How did you…?”

“I don’t know.”

“You put flour in, right?”

“Hey, no helping!” Kasey protested, swatting Sirius on the shoulder with an oven mitt. “We all fail on our own merit here. Tremy’s making concrete, Loops has jello, and I’ve got soup, so you and Knutty can fuck off back to your perfect batter and let us suffer in peace!”

“Jesus, Bliz, did you put water in that?”

“No! I put butter and milk in!”

“Why?”

“Because!”

“One hour left!” Marlene shouted.

“Fuck it, it’s good enough.” Remus grabbed the nearest cake pan and dumped his batter in, then put it in the oven. He turned the heat on and faced the camera guiltily. “Harzy, I know this was meant to spite you, it really was just meant to be a carrot cake. Not…that.”

Logan sprinkled a handful of chocolate sprinkled into his mixing bowl. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he singsonged. “But I know I’m doing it poorly!”

“Oh my god,” Remus said suddenly as he licked some of his batter off his finger. “Oh my—oh my god.”

Kasey looked up from pouring his batter into a pan in mild alarm. “What?”

“Oh my god, that’s terrible. Here, try it.”

Kasey put his cake in the oven before swiping a bit off and tasting it. His whole face scrunched. “What?”

“I know,” Remus laughed, passing the spatula to Logan. “It’s like getting punched with a cinnamon stick.”

“I can feel it in my nose,” Logan coughed. “Here, try mine.”

Leo regarded them with a healthy amount of disbelief. “Why are you all tasting it if you know it’s bad?”

“Because Marlene needs workable content.”

“Do it for the vine.”

“Because I’m a dumbass, rookie.” Kasey lifted the spatula up. “Cap, your fiancé made toxic sludge in cake form. Want some?”

Sirius hesitated, then sighed and headed over. Leo threw his hands in that air. “You, too?”

“What else am I supposed to—” Sirius faltered with a harsh exhale and braced his hands against the counter, licking his lips. “How many eggs did you put in that?”

“Four? Five?”

“How much cinnamon?”

“A teaspoon?”

Sirius took a fortifying breath through his nose. “Teaspoon or tablespoon?”

“Tablespoon,” Kasey answered for him. “Definitely a tablespoon. Try mine.”

“You two are never allowed in a kitchen again,” Sirius said, though he swiped his finger along the inside of Kasey’s bowl and tasted his batter with a grimace. “Ugh. It’s just melted butter.”

“How did you make it taste like salty butter and nothing else?” Logan asked, sounding genuinely interested.

“Well, Tremzy, I put salt and butter in it.”

Leo’s phone timer went off and he opened the oven door; four faces turned toward him in shock as he pulled a golden cake out and checked the center with a toothpick. Logan closed his eyes and bent closer, taking a deep inhale. “I wish the viewers could smell this, because it’s heaven.”

“Can it be my birthday instead?” Kasey asked. “Please?”

“Get back, you hyenas!” Leo whacked him lightly on the hand with a spoon when he reached out to poke the cake. “That oven was 350 degrees!”

Sirius glanced up at the camera. “That’s 177 degrees, for all you smart people out there.”

“Boo, Celsius.” Remus kissed his cheek. “You smell like sugar.”

“How much time do you all have left on your cakes?” Marlene asked from her perch next to the sink.

Logan, Remus, and Kasey shared a look before Logan turned back to her. “I don’t know?”

“You can’t answer that with another question,” she laughed.

“Ten minutes,” he guessed.

“Whenever it starts to smell good,” Remus said. “Though I doubt that’s going to happen.”

Kasey cocked his head and scanned Leo’s cake for a second. “When it starts looking like that.”

“It won’t,” Leo informed him.

“Damn, Knutty, okay.”

Marlene shook her head. “We’re going to cut filming until everyone’s cakes are out of the oven, but in the meantime we’ve got some special messages for our favorite redhead.”

A banner reading Happy Birthday, Finn! appeared on the screen with a burst of confetti before the usual studio replaced it, with its white walls and folding chairs. Dumo crossed one leg over the other with a soft smile. “One thing I admire about Finn is his tenacity. When he wants something, he’ll go for it with his whole heart.”

“I love his humor,” Leo said in the next short video. He was smiling as well, and had a faint blush on his freckled cheeks. “And the way he makes breakfast in the mornings. All the little things he does to make the people he loves happy. And he really does love with his whole heart. There’s no holding back with him.”

“Finn?” Sirius thought for a moment. “He’s a good person. I know that might sound lame, but he’s one of those people that you meet that always makes you feel happy, and confident, and supported. Anyone who meets him should count themselves lucky.”

Logan’s face was filled with nothing but affection. “I love his patience and his kindness. Whether that was helping me work on my English in college, or making the rookies feel welcome, or even the way he talks to complete strangers when they ask for directions on the street. Everything about him is kind.”

“Ah, jeez.” Remus bit his lower lip. “I think—I think what I admire most about Finn is that he never lets anyone else define who he is. He’s comfortable in himself and makes everyone around him feel safe. It’s sappy, but it’s true. He’s one of my best friends and I’m grateful for him every day.”

“He’s one of the most reliable people I’ve ever met,” James said. “Both on and off the ice. He will be there to support his friends in any capacity and I think we all need to be a little more like Finn that way.”

“Great player.” Arthur nodded. “Great player, and an even better teammate. I can put O’Hara anywhere on the ice and he’ll throw everything he’s got into doing his best. I can’t think of a single Lion who doesn’t love being on the same shift as him.”

Talker grinned, leaning back in his chair with a shake of his head. “Finn just loves hockey. He takes it seriously, of course, but he loves being out there with us and I’m always happy when we’re on a line together. He goes out there every night and has a blast. I admire a lot about him, but especially that.”

“It’s hard to pick one specific thing that I admire about him,” Kasey said, shifting in his chair. “He’s Finn. He’s annoying as all hell, and I love him for it. I’m not sure. Can I make a list?”

“Harzy is very cool,” Olli laughed. “Very cool and very fun to be around. He has a quick wit and truly cares about all of us.”

Kuny raised his eyebrows. “What I like about Harzy? Oh, everything. Everything. He is good friend, good teammate, always there when we need him. Good for Tremzy and Knutty, too. He would turn red like fire engine if he heard me. Don’t tell him I say that.”

The video changed to a wide view of the whole team as they waved to the camera. “Happy birthday, Harzy!” they chorused. “Bitch ass moves!”

The kitchen was much cleaner when the video resumed; all the cooking supplies had been taken away, leaving five hockey players with their cakes in front of them. Leo’s cake was a bit lopsided, though the yellow frosting was cheerful and even—next to him, Logan’s cake looked more like a squished loaf of bread. Sirius’ was plain and elegant, while Kasey’s frosting was still dripping as the camera zoomed in on it.

“Wow,” Finn said after a moment of silence from his seat at the main table, where five slices of cake had been placed on small plates with a label for each name. “Just…wow.”

“You can start with whichever one you want,” Marlene told him.

“I think I’ll save Cap and Leo’s for last. Uh, Kase, what happened here?”

Kasey sighed. “I wish I knew.”

Finn gave it a wary look, then took a bite; his chewing slowed to a stop almost immediately and Logan’s shoulders started to shake from his suppressed laughter. “You know it’s burnt on the outside and not cooked on the inside, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Just checking.” With great effort, he swallowed. “Why is it wet?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, man.”

Finn took the next plate, then paused. “Re, I love you, but…”

Remus shook his head. “I know.”

“I’m genuinely afraid to try this.”

“You should be.”

The second it touched his tongue, Finn started laughing. “Jesus, it’s a straight shot of cinnamon. Why is it crunchy?”

“It’s carrot cake!”

“You know I hate carrot cake!”

“Look, I gave it my best shot. It really wasn’t supposed to do…” He gestured at the plate. “That.”

“Lo, baby, please tell me yours is better than the last two.”

Logan thought for a moment. “It was made with love and that’s all that matters.”

Finn took a deep breath before taking a bite. A range of emotions washed over his face—pleasant surprise, then confusion, then horror, and finally disbelief. “I…what?”

“I don’t even know.”

He swallowed, then ate another bite. “Oh, bad idea. This—are there chocolate chips in here? And almonds?”

“Yeah. You like those, right?”

“Usually, yes. It’s kind of got the texture of fruitcake, but—” Finn broke off and picked the slice up, giving it a shake. Not even a crumb fell out of place, and the rest of the boys burst out laughing. “Lo. Logan. Light of my life, what the fuck?”

“Happy birthday?”

“This is the best birthday present ever. Alright, Cap, your turn.” He took a piece of Sirius’ cake and nodded. “Yep, that’s cake.”

Sirius blinked at him. “And?”

Finn shrugged. “It’s cake. Classic flavors, good texture. I like it. Definitely tastes like a cake you would make.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s calling you basic,” Kasey said, patting Sirius’ shoulder sympathetically. “But hey, at least yours was cooked all the way.”

“And now for boyfriend number two,” Finn continued.

Leo rolled his eyes. “Boyfriend number two.”

“Oh, that’s so good,” Finn groaned around a mouthful of cake. His eyebrows pitched. “I love it.”

“What about it?” Marlene prompted.

“For starters, it’s cooked all the way through. The lemon is freakin’ amazing, and the frosting isn’t melting off the sides or anything. I can’t even taste everyone else’s anymore. It’s a helluva cake. Happy birthday to me. Will you make this every day?”

“No,” Leo said, though there was a pleased flush on his face. “But maybe on the weekend.”

Finn scraped the last of the crumbs off his plate. “Alright, everyone, come get a piece of this magic. Thank you for doing this, by the way. I know three of you hate baking.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Logan admitted as he settled himself on one of Finn’s thighs with a slice of his own and kissed his temple. “Sorry for almost poisoning you. Oh, that is tasty.”

“I love you anyway. I think Loops and Bliz were actually the closest to doing that, so you’re all good.” Finn raised his eyebrows and craned his neck over Logan’s shoulder. “Speaking of…”

“Lasagna or chicken piccata?” Remus asked. Sirius took advantage of his moment of distraction by stealing a bite off his plate and received a playful glare in response, though it was soothed by a kiss on his cheek.

“Lasagna, please.”

“Does Friday work?”

Finn gave him a thumbs-up. “Sorry, Harzy,” Kasey said as he carefully got the last bits of frosting off his fork. “I have no marketable skills to apologize with. You don’t want me anywhere near a stove or an oven.”

A gleam lit in Finn’s eye. “Will you get in all your pads and play chicken with Knutty and I?”

“For the twentieth time—”

“It’s my birthday,” he wheedled, pouting his lower lip out with the Bambi eyes turned to full blast.

Kasey sighed. “Fine.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Thanks for joining us for our birthday celebration,” Marlene said with a smile. “The best estimations of these recipes are linked on our website, with a few tweaks to make sure none of your loved ones get food poisoning this August. Have a great day, Lions!”